


Rainbow's Freedom (Paradise Arc)

by BradyGirl_12



Series: Rainbow's Freedom [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Green Arrow, Green Lantern (Comic), Superman (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Rope Bondage, Series, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Slavery, Violence, Whipping, World's Finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 48,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery.  As Bruce and Clark continue to juggle being lovers as well as Master and slave, Bruce continues his Abolitionist work, and a shocking Family Secret is revealed. Meanwhile, the Queen Family welcomes a new member, and Steve and Hal meet their Destinies, although neither one realizes it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old Debts

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ Dates Of Completion: March 25, 2008-August 21, 2008  
> Original LJ Dates Of Posting: January 14, 2009-June 6, 2009  
> Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC does, more's the pity.  
> Original Word Count: 51,254  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin bust a slave-smuggling ring. Tony Zucco’s involved.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/bradygirl_12/pic/0001ye55)

_The Prince’s Jewels  
Shall be  
But footstools._

  


**Gavin Rentell  
Rigellian Author  
"The Reign Of The King"  
6,790 B.C.E.**

**Batman And Robin Smash Art Robbery Ring!**

**Batman And Robin Foil Bank Robbery!**

**Batman And Robin Capture East Side Rapist!**

& & & & & &

Robin somersaulted over and over again as the bats chattered high up in the Cave. Batman smiled indulgently as he watched his young partner.

“Looks like you’re quite the celebrity,” Bruce said as he pushed back the cowl. He pointed to _The Gotham Gazette’s_ archive of headlines on the computer.

“Of course!” Dick ended his last somersault right in front of Bruce. “Batman and Robin go together like peanut butter and jelly, or chocolate ‘n peanut butter.”

“I sense a theme here.”

Dick giggled as he removed his mask. “What, you don’t like peanut butter?”

“I love peanut butter.” His voice grew soft. “I love _you.”_

Dick stopped, looked at Bruce, then launched himself into his mentor’s arms. He hugged Bruce hard, Bruce hugging back, his gloved hand caressing Dick’s hair.

“I’m so proud of you,” Bruce whispered. “You’ve been at my side every step of the way. You watch my back. I trust you in every way.”

“I trust you, too, Bruce. With my life.”

“My beautiful little boy,” Bruce murmured.

Dick smiled so brightly that the entire Cave lit up.

_How lucky am I to have this little boy in my life?_

“Alfred’s baking oatmeal cookies. Have him make up a bag for us to take on patrol.”

Bruce laughed at Dick’s squeal of delight. The boy bounced up the stairs, yellow cape fluttering out behind him.

Bruce turned his chair slowly to face the computer. He tap-danced his fingers over the keys, bringing up information from the GCPD files: _Anthony ‘Tony’ ‘Boss’ Zucco. Racketeer involved in gambling, prostitution, drugs, and slave-smuggling. Arrested twelve times. Indicted three times in the last ten years. No convictions._

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. Of course no convictions. The big mobsters could bribe and wiggle their way out of anything.

Bruce needed to find out where the next slave shipment was coming in. Despite breaking up the last smuggling ring months ago, there would always be another to take its place, especially since Zucco had not been arrested.

Tony Zucco and his murderous brood of vipers usually stayed out of jail, laying low when they had to and always coming back.

Bruce wanted him for the numerous racketeering activities, but also for extortion.

Trying to extort money from Haly’s Circus.

Sabotaging the Flying Graysons’ trapeze.

“Can we get him?”

Bruce started at Dick’s voice behind the chair. He turned and saw his bright little boy with a resolute look on his face. He clutched the bag of warm cookies from the kitchen.

 _He’s learned his lessons in stealth well._

“We’re going to do our best.”

Dick nodded, reading the file on-screen. 

Bruce reached into the bag and took out a cookie.

“Let’s go.”

& & & & & &

The night was clear and cold, stars twinkling high in the sky. The Batmobile roared toward Gotham, and suddenly the Bat-signal cleaved through the sky.

Dick nearly bounced in his seat. The theatricality of the new device delighted him no end.

A small smile touched Bruce’s lips. “Let’s see what Commissioner Gordon has for us, shall we?”

“Yes!”

Dick was eager to find out what new case was waiting for them.

& & & & & &

Jim Gordon smiled as Batman and Robin descended on the roof of the Gotham City Police Department’s headquarters. He signaled to the patrolman to shut off the signal.

“Good evening, Dynamic Duo.” Robin smiled at the nickname. “Batman, you asked me to keep a special eye on Boss Zucco.” Robin tensed but kept his expression neutral. He listened very carefully. “He’s ratcheted up his extortion racket. He’s been leaning on local businesses, and they finally got fed up and came to us despite their fear. We want to set up a sting.”

“I’m interested.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

& & & & & &

The dive was smoky and dark, rough men and world-weary women drinking and plying their trade. No one paid attention to the limping boy in shabby clothes as he cleared tables and fetched drinks. One denizen was unhappy to receive what he complained was a watered-down drink and cuffed the child, sending him flying into a rickety table.

No one cared, and the boy stiffly got up and went to the bar to get a fresh drink.

Laughter burst out at a corner table, three men drinking and swearing.

The door opened and two burly men entered, striding over to the bar after getting the lay of the land.

“What’ll ya have, gentlemen?” asked the bearded bartender. 

“Denebian firewater,” growled one.

“Same for you?” 

The other man nodded.

The duo took their drinks to a corner table, settling in.

Ten minutes later, a slender man detached himself from a table of revelers and sat down at the corner table. His hair was streaked with purple.

“Speak, Rigellian,” said the one with a shaved head. The other man sipped his drink, a deep scar on his face running from eye to chin.

“I have a shipment ready.”

“When and where?”

“Tomorrow on Pier 59.”

“The boss might be interested.”

“Very good. If he wants to take control of the shipment, tell him to deliver payment at this address by noon tomorrow.” The Rigellian pushed a slip of paper across the scarred table. “It’s prime quality. I’m sure he would be satisfied.” The Rigellian rose from the table and left the bar.

The two thugs grinned.

The boy busied himself with clearing off a table, a small smile playing around his lips.

& & & & & &

The smell of the sea was strong as the brackish water lapped up against the pilings, rusting freighters bobbing at their moorings. Buoys out in the harbor clanged as seagulls cried out, flying slowly as they searched for food.

One freighter’s crew was unloading tall, heavy boxes, wheeling them down the gangplank. 

A large van was parked close to the pier in an alley between weather-beaten buildings. The doors were open and ready for loading.

The first crate was opened.

Slaves of both sexes came out on wobbly legs, naked except for their chains, manacles, and collars. As they were loaded into the van, the stevedore slapped each one smartly on the ass, grinning at the dockworkers.

The two thugs from the bar came into view.

The head stevedore shifted his weight and watched with confidence as the two men approached.

“So, here to take control of the shipment.”

“Yeah,” said Shaved Head. “Nice lot here.”

“Prime stuff as always, Guv’nor.”

The easy way of the man was not for the sharp to be fooled. Clever eyes glinted in his rough face as he took measure of the two standing before him. 

“Great, let’s do this.”

Suddenly a swoop of silk brought their heads up.

“Shit!”

Batman and Robin knocked over the dockworkers with ease, Robin chasing after the scarfaced thug. He leaped and knocked the man over, dispatching him after a tussle.

Batman sent the shaven-headed man flying, the man cursing as he fell to the pavement. 

“My knees! Fuck you, Batman!”

“Rather not,” came the dry reply.

The head stevedore was almost out of the range of the docks when he was knocked to the ground.

“Time to pay the piper.”

Robin’s cheerful voice grated on the stevedore’s ears. “Get off me!”

“No chance, big boy.”

The stevedore lashed out, narrowly missing Robin’s head with his fist. Robin slammed the man’s head against the pavement.

“Ow!”

“Who do you work for?” Robin’s voice was in his ear. “Falcone? Maroni? _Zucco?"_

"Go fuck yourself!"

“Tsk, tsk! Such language! I’m just a kid.”

The stevedore spat. “Listen, brat…”

“Who are you working for?!”

“Tough, kid. I ain’t no stoolie.”

“Robin, bring the man over. Let’s have a little chat.”

Robin dragged the man over, Batman looming over him.

“G’wan, Bats, I ain’t gonna spill no beans.”

“No matter. This is a Zucco operation, above-and-beyond.”

The stevedore snorted. “What’s a Zucco operation look like?”

“Like this.”

Something flickered in the thug’s eyes.

“The connections are all there. And it’ll be proven, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t say a word!”

“Zucco doesn’t know that.” Batman’s smile sent a shiver down the stevedore’s spine.

“Come on, Robin.”

The police had arrived, and after conferring with the detective in charge, they roared off in the Batmobile.

& & & & & &

“Can we prove Zucco’s connection to this smuggling ring?” Robin asked as the powerful car glided along the country roads.

“Possibly. But even more important, the two thugs who run his extortion ring are caught now. Someone will identify them as the smugglers.” 

“I can.” Robin’s work in the bar had paid off…to a point.

Batman’s voice was sad. “I know.”

“But I can’t testify.”

“No, slaves can’t testify against freemen.”

Robin sighed. “I don’t know…”

“Someone will come forward. They’re tired of all this, handing over their hard-earned money to crooks like Zucco.”

“Can they connect them to…”

Batman’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. “If Haly identifies them.”

“I’ll call Pop.”

& & & & & &

“Hey, kid!”

“Hey, Pop!” Dick ran forward and hugged the burly man, who smelled of peanuts and popcorn. “Glad to see you again.”

Pop smoothed the boy’s hair under Bruce’s watchful eye. Clark was quiet, close by Bruce’s side. They were at the Gotham City Police Department.

“Ya look good, kid,” Pop said as Dick grinned up at him.

“You look great!” Dick patted Pop’s tummy. “Not skippin’ any meals, huh?” He winked.

“Brat,” said Pop, his tone affectionate as he ruffled Dick’s hair.

“How long you stayin’?”

“Long enough to identify Zucco scum and testify at the grand jury, which your D.A. says will convene this week if I can I.D. said scum.”

“Great! I wanna catch up on everything!” Dick bowed a little. “You know Master Bruce, and this is his Prize and my k’tequa.”

Pop nodded at the Rigellian term for ‘friend’, Clark inclining his head with a little smile. Bruce was at his haughty best, amusement curving Pop’s lips. 

Bruce and Clark followed behind Dick and Pop, Clark twining his fingers with his lover’s. 

“Mr. Haly, glad to see you.” Harvey held out his hand and Pop shook it. “They won’t be able to see you when you pick them out of the line-up.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Pop said. He put his arm around Dick’s shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

“Send ‘em in,” said Jim Gordon. Pop smiled at Dick, who smiled back, then looked intensely at the men filing in. The two thugs from the docks were sullen. 

“Take your time, Mr. Haly.” 

Pop’s dark eyes looked over each man carefully. “Number 4 and Number 6.”

“Number 4, step forward,” Jim ordered.

Shaved Head obeyed, Pop saying, “Ugly as ever.”

“Number 6.”

Scarface shuffled forward.

“Bingo again, Mr. Dent.”

Harvey smiled. “Excellent. Commissioner, book ‘em.”

“Dick,” Bruce said softly.

Dick turned, his face set in a neutral expression. He grasped Pop’s hand tightly.

“Good work, Mr. Haly. We will convene the grand jury on Monday. We can offer you a hotel…” Harvey said.

Dick looked at Bruce with pleading eyes, and Bruce bit his lip on an instinctive negative retort. He carefully kept his expression bland.

“You are welcome to stay with us, Mr. Haly.”

The circus owner smiled. “Thank ye, Lord Wayne. I would like that very much.”

Dick flashed a grateful smile to Bruce and led Pop out of the chaotic police station. 

Clark said quietly, “That was a good thing you did.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted. “Dick needs to connect with his old life, even if just for a little while.”

“Bruce, I know you’re wary of Pop…”

“Haly was _training_ Dick to be a pleasure slave, Cl…my Prize!” Bruce didn’t want to take the chance of anyone overhearing his slave’s name.

“He wasn’t pimping Dick out.”

“No, but he had to serve the customers while they waited for the evening’s slaves to be ready, entertain them, wait on them hand-and-foot, probably while his mother and father or maybe _both_ were being prepped to serve god-knows-how-many customers…!”

“Master,” Clark said softly as he put a hand on Bruce’s arm. “I was probably trained the same way before I came of age.”

Bruce swallowed. He took Clark’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

“No need.” Clark smiled gently. “You’re working to change things, Bruce. Do you know how much I love you?”

“Probably not.” Bruce laid a hand on Clark’s cheek. “The depths of your loving heart…I doubt I could match it.”

Clark’s hand covered Bruce’s. “I think you’d be surprised.”

Bruce felt a surge of love for the beautiful man next to him, then saw Clark stiffen.

“Hello, Bruce.”

“Hello, Edmund.” Bruce turned around, dropping his hand but keeping himself between Clark and the elder Caldwell. He could feel Clark’s tension behind him.

“Police business?”

“Of a sort, though Jim and Harvey are friends.”

“Oh, yes. Our Commissioner and D.A. are fine, upstanding men.” Edmund’s gray eyes flicked over Clark. “Your whore is looking fine today.”

“My _Prize_ is always appealing to the eye.”

“I’m sure, Bruce, I’m sure.” Edmund turned his silver head. “Ah, Harrison! How was the meeting?”

“Fine, Father.” Harrison smoothed back thick, brown hair, his dark-brown eyes avidly seeking out Clark, who stayed behind Bruce.

Bruce felt his slave’s nervousness and didn’t blame him at all. Both Caldwells were looking at him like he was a juicy steak and they were ready for dinner.

“So, what brings you here?” Bruce asked pleasantly.

“Business, alas. Now, are you going to take part in the Halloween Festival?”

“Of course. I would rather be no place else than Gotham on Halloween.”

“Master, are you ready to go…oh, beg pardon.”

Dick had run up, eager to return to the Manor to start giving Pop the Grand Tour, and skidded to a halt at seeing the Caldwells. He immediately edged close to Bruce, his Master taking his hand.

“And who is this little… _boy…?”_ Edmund asked.

Bruce felt Dick shiver and calmly said, “This is my faithful Squire.”

“He has no name?”

“Richard.”

Dick quickly bowed, and the tip of Edmund’s cane lifted his chin up.

“You’ll be a beauty someday,” Edmund said silkily, the cane tracing Dick’s cheek.

Bruce frowned and pulled Dick back. Clark quickly enveloped him with an arm around his shoulder, drawing him close.

Amusement glittered in Edmund’s eyes and Harrison smirked.

“Nice to see you, Edmund, Harrison.” To his slaves, Bruce said, “Come.”

When they were away from the Caldwells’ sight, Bruce abruptly stopped. He turned and put his hand on Clark’s face, then ran his fingers through glossy black hair. Clark allowed himself to be drawn into an embrace, then when he was released, Bruce knelt, taking Dick by the shoulders.

“I won’t let them hurt you. I _promise,_ Dick.”

Dick nodded, then fiercely hugged Bruce, the small body trembling as Bruce smoothed his hair.

“Dick, you all right?” Pop asked as the boy hurried up to the circus owner.

“He’s fine.” Bruce kissed the top of Dick’s head.

Pop frowned but said nothing. He took Dick’s hand and they walked to the limousine.

& & & & & &

“Father?”

“Yes, Harrison?”

“What a delicious piece of ass Bruce owns in that Prize of his!”

Edmund laughed. “He certainly does. Wouldn’t you love to run your fingers through that hair or over that tawny skin?”

“Mmm. I want to see his eyes.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s between his legs.”

Harrison guffawed. “I’d settle for spreading those cheeks and ramming myself in.”

“Which cheeks?”

“Does it matter?” smirked Harrison.

Edmund threw back his head and laughed. “A man after my own heart.” He looked in the direction in which Bruce and his slaves had gone. He’s got quite a fetching little circus guttersnipe for a Squire, too.” His eyes glittered . “’The Prince’s Jewels shall be but footstools’.”

“What?”

Edmund smiled affectionately. “Oh, just an old man’s ramblings, son. Let’s go home.”


	2. Hard Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pop has regrets, but he knows that Dick is in the right place now.

_"Sometimes the only choices you have in life all suck."_

  


**Malcolm Penn  
"Mists In The Mountains"   
2009 C.E.**

Bruce watched from the library as Dick gave Pop a tour of the gardens that were ablaze in autumn glory. He stood with his arms crossed and a slight scowl, but held his tongue. Clark rubbed his back.

Bruce watched the burly man with the dark eyes interacting with Dick, and wondered if Clark had been trained as a pleasure slave early on. He’d been a virgin far beyond the age of eighteen. Virgins destined as pleasure slaves were usually sold as soon as they became legal.

“You still don’t trust him,” Clark said.

“Not completely.” Bruce sighed. “I know it’s hypocritical…”

“Don’t.”

Bruce looked at Clark, the guilt clear in his eyes, but Clark’s eyes reflected calm and steady understanding. “I just don’t like the idea of Dick being groomed to eventually becoming the star attraction for _‘anyone to come around and lay their money down’.”_

“I know.” Clark looked at the sparkling boy in the sunlight. “Someday you’ll have to Veil him.”

“Yes.” Fear skittered in Bruce’s heart. He was also angry over the confrontation with the Caldwells, and fearful that he and Clark may have given too much away in public. He was going to have to ratchet up the imperious attitude. He was getting too comfortable and careless. “I just want to protect him so much, you know?”

“I do.”

Clark’s tone was affectionate, and he slipped his arm around Bruce’s waist, his Master smiling.

& & & & & &

“So you’re happy here, Dickie?”

Dick grinned. “Very.” Dick slipped his small hand into Pop’s large one. “Look at how beautiful it is here, Pop! The estate is beautiful, the ocean’s right here, and I have a trapeze I can use!” 

“Sounds just like a castle. “ Pop glanced back at the Manor. “But no surprise, as you’re living with a Prince now.”

“Yes!” Dick’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m glad to see you happy, Dickie.” Pop squeezed his hand. “You deserve it.”

“So do you.”

“Maybe the Prince wouldn’t think so.”

Dick squeezed his hand this time. “Bruce doesn’t always understand. He grew up here, not in a circus.”

 _And not manacled,_ Pop thought.

“He doesn’t know what it takes to keep a circus like ours going.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Dick’s smile faded slightly. “I know if you didn’t find ways to make extra money, we all…could have been sold off…”

“That’s right, Dickie.” Pop sighed. “I wish I could have done things differently.”

“I know.”

They were quiet for a minute, listening to the waves crashing on the rocks, and then Pop said, “Well, since you left, no more special performances. Your Master saw to that.”

“How?”

“He sends enough money every month to keep us going.”

Dick’s eyes widened, then he broke into a big smile. “Bruce is the _best!”_

“Good.” Pop ruffled his hair. “You gonna show me this private beach of yours?”

“Sure!” Dick nearly turned a somersault. “I have to go tell Alfred where I’m going.” He took off, leaving Pop by the seawall.

Pop could feel Bruce’s eyes boring into his back. He smiled. The Prince was certainly protective. Good.

Pop threw a pebble into the water. He had been telling Dick the truth. He did wish there had been another way to get the extra money before the Wayne largesse started coming. The circus did well, but they’d needed more. The alternative would have been to sell off some of the slaves, breaking up families, possibly Dickie’s own…

Did he regret grooming Dick to become his prize whore when he came of age?

Yes, but he would do it again if it meant saving the circus and the slaves in it.

This world wasn’t always easy, and neither were its choices.

What would a Prince know about hard choices, and the Government always sniffing around, looking for those who…?

“Let’s go, Pop!”

Pop turned and saw the smiling boy bounce toward him, and followed Dick down to the beach.

& & & & & &

Bruce hung up the phone and glanced out the window. He immediately rose and hurried to it, then turned and strode to the kitchen, calling, “Alfred!”

“Yes, sir?” Alfred looked up from his grocery list.

“Where’s Dick?”

“Gone to the beach with Mr. Haly, sir.”

Bruce frowned. He stalked to the door and then back to the table.

“Something amiss, sir?”

“I don’t like Dick off with Haly.”

“Don’t worry, Bruce, I don’t think Haly is going to run off with him.” Clark entered the kitchen.

“And why are you so trusting of Elias Haly?”

“I’ve seen the way he treats Dick. He really cares about him, Bruce. And it’s good that Dick is re-connecting with his past.”

“Hmph.”

Clark exchanged a smile with Alfred and put his arms around Bruce.

“Don’t worry, love,” he whispered. “Dick is safe here at the Manor. You’ve made it so.”

Bruce sighed and relaxed into Clark’s embrace, Alfred returning his attention to his grocery list, approval on his face.

& & & & & &

The waves lapped up onto the beach, Dick dancing back-and-forth, daring them to get him wet, then cartwheeled down the sand, amusing Pop.

“You’re still in good shape, kid.”

“I get to practice on the trapeze every day.”

“Good.” Pop tapped a smiling Dick on the head. “You stay in shape, and we’ll feature you as a guest act when we come to Gotham next spring.”

Dick jumped for joy. “Really, Pop?”

“Really, kid.”

“Yes!”

Pop laughed as Dick somersaulted down the beach. 

Yeah, it was good that the kid was here. If trouble came…well, the Prince had clout. He could protect Dickie.

Pop hurried to catch up to Dick.


	3. Flying Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Robin in a gilded cage is still free.

_He flew through the air  
With hardly a care,  
This sweet little boy  
Sparkling with joy._

_Flying Free._

  


**Jeanette Sinclair  
"Night At The Circus   
And Other Poems"   
2009 C.E.**

“Is it possible to get the medicine early?”

“Sorry, m’lord. If we get the medicine too soon, it’ll lose its effectiveness.”

Bruce frowned as he faced Elias Haly out in the garden. The circus owner enjoyed the setting and spent most of his time here, often with Dick when the boy wasn’t at lessons or doing chores.

“Have no fear, m’lord. I won’t forget or fail to send you what Dickie needs.”

“I appreciate that.”

Pop smiled. “I’m glad you do.”

Bruce wanted to grind his teeth. He touched a Jovaran Starfire flower, its yellow brilliance always reminding him of Clark’s smile.

Now that he thought of it, Dick, too. 

_My two Starfires._

The sound of the ocean rolled like waves over him, soothing as he tried to keep a sense of peace. He didn’t want to clash with Haly. The man was a tie to Dick’s past, and Dick was fond of him.

_Just because he was grooming Dick to be a whore…_

He stopped. He didn’t want to go there.

“Do you think the D.A. can convict Zucco?” Pop asked.

“I sure as hell hope so. Tony Zucco is scum and has to pay for his crimes.”

“True.” Pop touched a rose. “He killed John and Mary.”

“Yes.” Bruce carefully pushed the image of the Graysons falling to the ground out of his mind.

“If I can help out put that piece of crap away, I will.”

Bruce looked at Pop with new respect. “That’s good.”

The older man stared out at the ocean. “Sometimes it’s tough to own slaves. It’s a lot of responsibility, looking out for them, keeping them safe.” Pop watched a seagull swoop down to the water. “There’s a lot out there to hurt them.” The seagull rose triumphantly with a struggling fish in its beak. “Some would say we shouldn’t have slaves.”

“Some would.”

“What about you, Lord Wayne?”

“If the Day Of Abolition ever comes, I would gladly free my slaves.”

“Your family would pretty much dissolve.”

Bruce clamped down on the fear that speared through his heart. “I’m sure my family would stay.”

“I would hope most of my performers would.” Pop threw a pebble out into the sea. “I think they would. They love the circus. They’re good at what they do.” Pop smiled at Bruce. “Dickie was one of my brightest stars. And he would have been one of the finest stars when he’d grown up.”

Bruce touched the Starfire again and said, “I’ve seen it when he uses the trapeze.”

“That was a great thing you did, m’lord. Dickie would have pined away for the freedom of flying.”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly. Of course! Little wonder the boy loved flying so much.

It gave him freedom, something he didn’t have on the ground. 

Something he could never give Dick.

But if Dick was freed…

_My Little Bird would fly away and leave me._

_And what about Clark and Alfred?_

**If they were free, they’d leave you, too.**

Bruce shoved away the taunting voice in his head.

_It’s doubtful we’ll ever see Abolition in our lifetimes, no matter how hard we work, so I refuse to worry._

**Keep telling yourself that.**

Bruce nearly snapped off the Starfire he held, restraining himself just in time.

“Hey, Pop!”

Dick ran over, sunlight shining from his eyes.

“Hey yourself!” Pop ruffled Dick’s hair. “Time for the trapeze?”

“Yes!”

Bruce and Pop laughed at Dick’s backflip. Pop followed Dick into the mansion.

Bruce stared out at the ocean, then slowly went inside.

& & & & & &

Clark performed a routine with Dick, Bruce climbing the pole. Clark was a fast learner and loved flying, only held back by the less practice time he managed. He needed to be free of dizziness to come up here.

Bruce and Dick also practiced more because of their other identities. It was vital to keep their timing on an instinctive level.

Talented as he and Clark were, Bruce knew that Dick would always be the star. He had a natural talent that would outshine his older partners.

When Clark reached out, Dick flipped right into his hands. Dick laughed with joy, Clark joining him, and Bruce smiled.

Down below, even Pop was smiling. His expert eye watched the grace and style of both flyers. He applauded.

Clark and Dick both swung up onto the platform. Bruce swung out next, nodding to Dick, who took hold of the bar.

They swung back-and-forth, getting their rhythm down, and Dick signaled his readiness. Bruce nodded and Dick let go of the bar, flipping in mid-air.

Bruce’s heartbeat increased, excitement surging up within him as Dick flew toward him.

Their hands met and grasped, the smaller body strong but lighter-than-air. His silvery laugh sparkled through the air, Bruce smiling.

Dick climbed up around Bruce, hugging him as he whispered, “Let go,” and fell into the net, bouncing before he flipped onto the floor. 

“How about you doin’ a solo act, Dickie?”

“Ready!” Dick looked up. “Master?”

“Just what I was going to suggest.”

Bruce was rewarded by Dick’s incandescent smile. Bruce dropped to the net and stood with Clark, who had come down from the platform.

All three men craned their necks to watch the boy flying overhead.

Dick put on a show, swinging and flipping and laughing in sheer joy.

Bruce felt a lump rise in his throat. Dick was truly a Little Bird, soaring through the air with the sunlight sparkling from his soul.

Grace and joy and love.

He brushed his hand against Clark’s, his lover smiling as he, too, watched with love sparkling in his eyes.

“Dickie! Triple!”

“Yes, sir!” Dick answered excitedly.

The boy touched down lightly on the platform, grabbing a bar and preparing himself, then swung out, letting go, somersaulting once, twice, three times…then a firm grab of the bar.

Dick’s audience broke into applause and his smile lit up the room. He alighted on the opposite platform and bowed, Clark and Pop laughing while Bruce fondly shook his head.

Dick scrambled down the pole and Pop greeted him with a hug. “Ya still got it, kid.”

Dick laughed. “Of course!”

“Wise-ass.”

Dick giggled and looked at Bruce and Clark. Clark hurried forward and hugged Dick.

“You’re a star!”

Dick beamed.

“Very good, my Squire.”

The twinkle in Bruce’s eyes belied the formality of the language.

Dick winked, then slipped his hand into Bruce’s. “Come with me.”

Bruce squeezed his hand lightly and followed.

Up the pole, to the platform, and a nod by Dick.

Poetry in motion.

Batman and Robin flew again.


	4. The Trinity Celestial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame Zee makes some interesting predictions as Bruce and his Family and guests attend Gotham’s Halloween Week Street Festival.

_"The Stars and the Moon shall know you, and here comes the Sun."_

  


**Madame Zee  
Prediction   
22—C.E.**

The crowds were raucous as they always were during Halloween Week in Gotham. Vendors hawked their wares while street performers played music, juggled, and performed acrobatic tricks.

Dick loved watching the acts, pointing out the different maneuvers to Melody, whose hand he was holding tightly.

The little girl’s eyes were huge, taking everything in. She and Dick had bonded immediately when Ollie and Dinah had arrived for the house party at the Manor.

Bruce had been so pleased with the success of the house party last year that he had invited the same guests with a few additions. Steve and Hal had requested one bedroom, and Lex had brought Jamie.

Bruce held on tightly to Clark’s hand, determined to keep him close in this crowd. Dick had been ordered to stay close, and Melody would not leave his side.

Dick looked at Clark with even more respect after Melody had whispered to him about Clark saving her a year ago on the Caldwell estate. Bruce had told him about Melody’s suffering in the Caldwell Household, and Dick had made it his business to keep Melody entertained.

Bruce’s mouth watered as he smelled sausage. “Dick, Melody!” As the children turned, Bruce indicated the sausage stand and they ran forward, the adults smiling as they followed.

The pungent smells of mustard and relish mingled with the sausages.

“Order what you like, my friends,” Bruce said. “Everyone.” 

Dick eagerly ordered a sausage with mustard, relish, pickles and Rigellian redsprinkle, a spicy condiment famed for its fiery flavor.

“Will you have a stomach lining left?” Bruce asked with a smirk as he took out his debit card, the platinum shimmering under the strung lights.

Dick grinned. “You should have tasted some of the dishes we cooked up at the circus!” He turned to his companion. “What would you like, Melody?”

Melody spoke too softly for the vendor to hear and Dick encouraged her to speak louder. She did, ordering what he had but leaving off the redsprinkle.

“Smart girl,” Bruce said and Melody blushed but smiled proudly.

Bruce enjoyed the juicy sausage, the condiments’ tangy flavors sharp on his tongue. He watched as Lex handed a sausage to Jamie, who smiled back. His exquisite leaf-green eyes were hidden by dark glasses, a good choice by Lex. His old friend looked happy, which pleased Bruce greatly.

Clark said softly, “You did a good thing, keeping Jamie away from the Caldwells and giving him to Lex.”

Bruce touched Clark’s arm. “Even with Lionel sniffing around, it’s far better than a life with the Caldwells.”

Clark nodded, glancing at Melody.

“Hey, Bruce, you have to get your fortune told!” Ollie said with a grin.

“Oh, Madame Zee’s here?”

“Her tent’s that way.” Ollie pointed behind him.

Bruce remembered last year’s prediction: _‘The dam breaks. A blossoming. Happiness shall be yours, m’lord’._ And she had clarified it as love, and not too far in the future. 

She’d been right.

“Let’s go.”

The tent was the same one from last year: black-and-yellow glittery stripes, and the sign read: **‘Madame Zee—Tarot Readings, Crystal Ball Divinations, and Palm Readings’.**

“Me first!” Dinah said as she slipped inside.

“So, Lex,” Bruce began as Clark and Jamie talked. Hal was describing a test flight to Dick and Melody while Steve and Ollie talked. “Has Jamie been able to stay clear of Lionel?”

“So far.” Lex sipped his Coke. “I’m actually surprised. I figured by now he’d have bent my Prize over his desk and taken him. So far, so good.”

“You seem very happy,” Bruce observed as he watched Clark and Jamie laugh.

“I am. I’m very satisfied with Jamie. You have excellent taste, Bruce.”

“Edmund wasn’t too happy when I bought him.”

“Edmund is a sadistic old man who delights in tortures. I won’t let him get near my Prize.”

“Good.”

Dinah emerged from the tent.

“So, what’s the prediction?” Ollie asked.

“Oh, my business will do well.”

“What about your love life?”

“Oh, that.” Dinah waved her hand negligently.

Everyone laughed and Dinah smirked.

Steve stepped up. “I’ll go next.”

Hal watched him go, then returned his attention to Dick and Melody.

Lex watched the Ferris wheel turning bright against the night sky. “Be very careful, Bruce. Edmund hates you.” 

A chill went through Bruce. “I don’t think…”

“Trust me, he does, and that makes your slaves vulnerable.”

& & & & & &

After fifteen minutes Steve emerged, joking about meeting a dark-haired woman with the heart of a lioness.

“The psychics say that every year,” he smiled.

“Oh, but they’re very smart,” Dick said, bouncing up to Steve. “We had psychics off-and-on with the circus. When they ‘saw’ things, they were usually right.”

“Let me go next,” Hal said.

Bruce watched Dick talk about psychics, enthralling his audience.

“He’s a born showman, isn’t he?” Lex murmured in amusement.

Bruce smiled. “Very much so.” A bright red-and-green costume with a fluttering yellow cape flitted across his mind. “He was born for the spotlight.”

“Mmm.” Lex sipped his Coke. “How old is he?”

“Nine.”

“In a few years, you’ll have to Veil him.”

Bruce felt that skitter of familiar fear. “I will.” He thought of what Dick’s fate would have been if he had remained with the circus. “I will,” he repeated, fierce protectiveness in his tone.

Hal emerged from the tent and Steve took his hand. “So?”

Hal looked a little dazed. “Something cosmic is coming, and I’m going to be a part of it.”

Steve looked a little frightened. “Like, a war coming?” He squeezed Hal’s hand. “Maybe you’ll be a war hero again.”

Hal smiled crookedly. “One war’s enough for me, my friend.”

Bruce quietly touched Lex’s arm. “Protect,” he whispered, looking at Dick and Clark, then entered the tent.

It was as he remembered it: wine-red wall hangings, woven with Celtic symbols, and scented candles flickering on tables, incense from a hanging brazier mixing with patchouli. A hand-carved oaken staff was propped up in one corner, and the crystal ball shone in the candlelight, ruby eyes winking from the pewter dragon base.

Bruce sat in the black-lacquered chair, stretching out his legs and getting comfortable. He breathed in the incense, the scent reminding him of his days of training. 

Bruce relaxed so much that he nearly fell asleep, rousing when he heard the jangle of jewelry.

”Glad to see you back, Lord Wayne.”

Bruce smiled at Madame Zee. She smiled back, skirts swirling as she sat down, gold and silver bracelets jangling. Blond tresses trailed out from under her dark-blue kerchief, yellow stars patterned on the silk.

“So, did you find your true love yet?”

Bruce smiled. “A gentleman never tells.”

She picked up her deck of Tarot cards. “Very elusive, Lord Wayne, like a wraith in the night.”

Bruce’s stomach tightened. Did she know?

_Oh, please. Don’t get all paranoid._

“Hmm, your journey continues.” She laid out a card. “Your Legend is growing. The Stars and the Moon shall know you, and here comes the Sun.”

Her cadence was mesmerizing, Bruce blinking as the incense filled his senses.

_She’s good._

The mists began to swirl in the crystal ball. Singsonging, Zee said, _“The Light…so bright…child of your heart…Sunchild…”_ Her bracelets jangled as her hand passed over the ball. _“Ocean’s sparkle by the night of the silvery moon…”_ Bruce smiled. _“…the Crown’s Jewels sparkle as the Prince walks among his people…prized Jewels by his side…Starchild…splash of sunlight…”_ She frowned slightly, _“…robinsong…clear and sweet…protector of the Castle…”_

Bruce’s mouth went dry. A robinsong? He looked at her closely but her eyes were distant as she spoke her visions.

Bruce listened intently, filing away the imagery. It was beautiful, poetic language, and he wanted to immerse himself in it.

Zee’s eyes snapped open as loud voices could be heard outside the tent.

“Your Sunchild is in danger.”


	5. Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is always danger lurking around the corner for a slave.

_"Disciplining a slave should be left entirely up to the Master."_

  


**Harvey Dent  
Gotham City **  
District Attorney   
22—C.E.****

The street performers juggled and danced, one performing a series of backflips, jewelry jangling. Dick loved seeing the act, his own limbs itching to do his own jumps and backflips.

The young girl performing the acrobatics flipped down the street, the crowd following. Dick hurried forward for a better look, slipping to the front of the crowd. 

He was excited, the sights and sounds of the Festival reminding him of the circus. He hopped from one foot to the other, the music growing bouncier as the crowd clapped in time.

Just as the applause grew loudest, Dick realized he was far from Madame Zee’s tent. He quickly turned and weaved through the crowd, tripping and falling to his knees with a _whuff!_ A hand grabbed him and he looked up, startled.

Cold ice spread through him as he saw the lizard-like smile of the man grasping his arm. 

“So, what have we here?”

“M’lord, I beg forgiveness.”

Edmund Caldwell squeezed hard enough so that Dick winced. “A slave brat should watch where he’s going.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” His eyes darted to Harrison Caldwell, but the man was grinning. No help there.

Edmund yanked him to his feet. For an old man, he was strong. He leaned close, pale eyes boring into Dick.

Dick tried to stop shaking. He had faced murderous thugs as Robin, though the Joker hadn’t escaped from Arkham since he’d donned the cape and domino. But that was when he was a good guy catching a bad guy. Now he was just a slave facing a scary freeman. 

A _very_ scary freeman.

“Your Master lets you run wild. If you were my brat…”

Dick was very glad that Melody wasn’t with him anymore.

“You need to be taught discipline. Your Master really is lax, isn’t he?’

Anger flared in Dick. “My Master is good to me…uh!”

Dick sprawled on the ground, his jaw throbbing. Edmund towered over him with a smile, flexing his fingers while Harrison snickered.

“Discipline for a mouthy brat.” He raised his cane and brought it down hard on Dick’s thigh.

Dick strangled his cry of pain. He quickly ran through the techniques that Bruce had taught him to control pain. The Festival-goers walked past, reluctant to interfere with a Master disciplining his slave.

Dick started to stand up but was shoved back down hard. Oh, Bruce was going to be so angry! He should never have drifted away.

“If you were mine…” Edmund raised the cane again and Dick steeled himself for another blow.

The cane descended.

Suddenly, a hand stopped it.

“He’s not yours.” Bruce’s voice was cold. “He’s _mine.”_

Edmund smiled as he put his cane down. “Bruce, you should keep this one on a leash.”

Bruce gasped Dick’s hand, helping him up. “Thank you for your concern,” Bruce said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Now, Edmund, I’m going to tell you this one final time: _never touch my slaves again.”_

Bruce’s eyes were blue ice, close to Bat-like, but Edmund’s smile merely grew more smug.

“Of course, Bruce.”

Edmund and Harrison walked away, Bruce watching them go. Then he dismissed the old man and his son from his thoughts and crouched down, Clark beside him. Dick’s body trembled.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Master, I shouldn’t have wandered off.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Bruce grasped Dick’s shoulders.

“I…”

The misery in Dick’s face pierced Bruce’s heart. He pulled the child to him, rubbing his back as Clark stroked his hair.

“Do you…do you still trust me?” Dick whispered.

Bruce knew that Dick meant their nocturnal partnership as well.

“Always,” he breathed.

He hugged Dick tightly, trying to stem the tremors.

Finally, they broke apart, Bruce realizing that Lex was right behind him.

“Is he all right?”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Lex…”

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I failed you.”

Bruce straightened up, holding Dick’s hand tightly. Clark gently rubbed the little boy’s back, hoping to calm him.

“Lex, your Prize was being molested by a pair of drunks. _Of course_ you had to save him.”

Lex still looked guilty. Jamie hovered nearby, slightly disheveled but worried for his Master.

“Lex, when I next need protection for my slaves, you’ll be the person I turn to.” He added softly, “Honor Served.” 

Lex swallowed, his eyes bright. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled. He didn’t want to blame Lex or Dick. Both had a share of guilt, he supposed, as Lex had been charged to watch Dick, and his boy shouldn’t have wandered off, but sometimes a situation was a perfect storm. He was just grateful that Dick was all right.

Jamie slipped his hand into Lex’s and received a grateful smile.

& & & & & &

The Manor was quiet as everyone had gone to bed soon after coming back from the city.

Bruce watched Dick sleep, anger rising as he thought of the ugly bruise on the boy’s thigh. He had wanted to return home immediately, but Dick had insisted upon staying.

“Pain is to be ignored, right, Master?”

_Clever little one, to quote the Batman’s training words back at him._

And so he had agreed to stay, even putting Dick in a seat on the Ferris wheel, a wide-eyed Melody beside him. The wheel was close to flying, and that would settle Dick down. 

It had worked, and despite his limp, Dick had enjoyed the rest of the evening.

Clark was sitting on the other side of the bed, gazing at Dick.

“He’s so special, Clark.” Bruce’s voice was soft.

Clark smiled at him. “I know. I’ve felt it in my heart since the moment I saw him.” He gently smoothed Dick’s hair back from his forehead.

“Melody is a courageous little soul. She pointed us in the right direction to go after Dick. I’m glad she didn’t meet up with Edmund.”

Clark laughed softly. “Melody ran right up to Dick when we returned to the tent, didn’t she?”

“A crush?”

Clark grinned, then he gently stroked the damaged leg. “Will he be all right?”

“He should be, but no patrol tomorrow.”

“You’re going to allow him to trick-or-treat, right? He was so looking forward to it. He’s never been able to do it, and soon he’ll be too old.”

Bruce closed his hand over Clark’s. “Don’t worry, love. I promised him he could still go. Melody, too. She’s very excited.”

“She’s a doll.” Clark touched Dick’s hair again, wanting to lavish love on this child. “I’m so glad you got her away from that hellhole.”

“You showed me the way.”

Clark smiled. “You have a good heart, Bruce. You would have found your way eventually.”

Bruce smiled a trifle sadly. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I can’t lose him, Clark,” Bruce whispered.

Clark’s very blue eyes looked at Bruce. “I know.” He laid his hand on Dick’s arm. “I can’t, either.”

Bruce’s hand slipped over to Clark’s and grasped it, their joined hands resting on Dick’s arm.


	6. "Trick-Or-Treat!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Melody go trick-or-treating. :)

_"In 20th century postwar America, a long-standing tradition became a ritual that children, free or slave, considered their own as a rite of passage. Trick-or-treating was everything that children loved: dress-up, laughter, and candy!"_

  


**Dr. Malcolm Atterbury  
"The Baby Boomers  
And Their Influence  
On America,  
Past And Future"  
2206 C.E. ******

“Can we go now?”

Dick was nearly bouncing in his eagerness, and Bruce laughed as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “It appears that Melody is ready. And so pretty, too.” Melody beamed as she twirled a little, showing off her fairy princess costume, complete with sparkling tiara and wand.

“She certainly is,” Ollie agreed as he entered the foyer. “Ah, Mama Mia, how pretty you look!” Melody smiled, a little nonplussed at all the attention.

“Clark, Dinah, we’re ready to go!” Bruce called.

Excited, Dick picked up his orange treat bag with a silhouette of a grinning Jack O’Lantern and handed one to Melody. Dressed as the Lone Ranger, he smirked as he put his domino mask on while he waited impatiently to begin.

Dinah and Clark came down the staircase, Steve and Hal behind them.

“Are you guys coming, too?” Ollie asked as he straightened Melody’s wings.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Hal grinned.

“Okay, then let’s mount up, Cowboy!” Bruce said to Dick, who grinned and took Melody’s hand, escorting her outside.

“Hold down the fort, Alfred,” Bruce said with a smile.

“Of course, sir.”

Lex came out of the kitchen with Jamie. “We’ll help Alfred man the fort. When you get back, we should still have plenty of time to prepare for the Ball.”

“Thanks, Lex.” 

Outside, Bruce glanced up. Brendan would keep watch from his apartment over the garage, and security cameras were trained on the front door. 

Never hurt to be cautious. 

The night was clear and cold, perfect for Halloween. Moonlight shimmered down, illuminating the grinning faces of Jack O’Lanterns and other decorations.

As they walked along the quiet country road, Bruce remembered past Halloweens with his parents the ones trailing behind an excited little boy, who was dressed as Zorro or the Gray Ghost or Captain America.

Bruce felt the old familiar pain as he thought of his parents, but they were happy memories. He slipped his hand into Clark’s, his lover smiling as he squeezed his hand.

Dinah slipped her arm around Ollie’s waist. “Our fairy princess seems very happy.”

“Glad to see our _cara mia_ so animated.”

“Dick brings out the best in her.”

“I’d say that Melody isn’t the only one he performs that magic on.” 

Dinah noticed the clasped hands of their companions. She smiled to herself.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Steve observed as he looked up at the stars.

“Great night for flying,” Hal grinned.

Steve laughed. “Always the pilot, eh?”

“You know it, Stevie boy.”

At the first house, as lavishly decorated as Wayne Manor, Dick and Melody ran up the long driveway, ringing the doorbell and shouting the age-old chant, “Trick-or-treat!” The door opened, admiring exclamations were heard over their costumes, and candy dropped into bags as the Jack O’Lanterns leered with eerie grins from the veranda.

Leaves swirled in frantic arcs as the wind blew, the street quiet except for the silken murmur of costumes, the distant sounds of happy children and faint chants of “Trick-or-treat!” The trees whispered as their branches bent, moonlight silvering their limbs.

At the next house, the adults burst out laughing.

Four out of five of the trick-or-treaters already there were wearing Robin costumes.

“Hmm, seems like Batman’s partner is quite popular with the younger set,” Bruce observed as Dick beamed and Melody giggled.

Clark laughed. “I’m sure there are Bats around.”

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter. Children should emulate Robin. He’s a bright, cheerful soul who gets the job done without losing himself in the darkness.”

Bruce could feel Clark’s concerned gaze on him, his hand squeezed.

“Master…” Clark said softly.

Bruce looked at him with a small smile. “Don’t worry, my Prize. The darkness is beaten back by you and my sparkling Squire.”

Clark’s smile blazed, Bruce feeling warmth spread through him. He was so lucky, so very lucky. 

The first group of trick-or-treaters cheerfully went past the adults as the little party approached the second house, comparing their ‘loot’.

“Trick-or-treat!” shouted Dick and Melody in unison.

The maid at the door was delighted. “Such a lovely fairy princess! And a classic cowboy! The mask…you’re the Lone Ranger, right?”

“Yes, Miss!”

“Where’s Tonto?” 

Dick laughed. “Even the Lone Ranger needs a partner, right?” He winked at Bruce.

The maid’s bracelets sparkled in the moonlight. Dick’s sleeve was pulled slightly back, revealing part of his own manacle, but Bruce knew that she wouldn’t refuse a fellow slave. He had made a discreet canvas of the neighborhood and learned which houses would serve slave children, bypassing those who did not. 

He didn’t want an unpleasant memory to be associated with the children’s first trick-or-treating. He wanted to protect his family as much as possible.

“They’re really adorable,” Dinah chuckled. “Is this Dick’s first time?”

“Yes. He never had an opportunity to do this while in the circus.”

“Melody’s an old hand now. She went out for the first time last year.”

“Oh, I thought it was her first.”

“She was really nervous, poor thing.”

“She’s getting over some of her timidity,” Ollie said. “I can’t blame her much, though.” Anger sparked in his eyes. “No doubt we’re bypassing the Caldwell estate.”

“Absolutely,” Bruce said. “I wouldn’t put it past the old man to poison any candy given out to slaves.” 

Dinah shuddered, Clark looking slightly ill. Hal and Steve frowned. 

“This guy is like a blight on the neighborhood,” Hal said.

“That’s a good description,” Bruce agreed.

Dick and Melody ran up, the children’s eyes sparkling through their masks.

“The candy here is really good, and the maid gave us two of everything.” Dick offered his bag. “Want some?”

Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair, knocking the cowboy hat off. Dick grinned as he retrieved it.

“No, we’ll take a look after you tally everything, but thanks for the offer.”

Dick beamed and ran with Melody down the driveway.

“You’re raising a generous soul,” Steve observed.

“He already has the generosity,” Bruce said, but his voice was proud.

& & & & & &

The rest of the tour of the neighborhood was successful, the only dark spot that of the looming Caldwell estate. Melody went a little pale and Dick shivered as they quickly passed the main gates, open to lure trick-or-treaters. Even the adults quickened their pace past the House of Horrors, the neighborhood slaves’ nickname for the estate.

Bruce was glad when they reached the next house.

& & & & & &

Back at the Manor the children eagerly divvied up their candy, an impressive amount piled next to each of them as they sat in the foyer. They traded candy, giggling while they bartered and sampled.

Bruce was very happy to see them enjoying themselves. Dick’s limp had grown more noticeable by the end of their rounds, and it reminded him that happiness could always be taken away at a moment’s notice.

“So, you and Melody collected quite a haul,” Bruce said as he crouched down next to Melody.

“Yes, sir!” Dick said. “Choose a piece, Bruce. More than one if you want.”

“Yes, choose, m’lord,” Melody said shyly.

Bruce looked at two eager faces and poked through the wrapped candy. “Mmm, lemon-filled.” Bruce picked out the candy bar and looked further. “And this peanut butter cup. Love peanut butter.” Bruce winked and both children giggled.

Bruce sat cross-legged on the floor, eating his candy and chatting.

He was impressed by how quick-witted Melody was, and was glad that Ollie and Dinah had hired a tutor for her soon after acquiring her. He knew well that the Caldwells liked slaves kept ignorant.

Clark appeared and smiled. “Hey, you aren’t going to spoil your dinner, little boy?”

Bruce defiantly popped chocolate in his mouth.

Clark laughed. “Okay, be that way.” He sauntered up the staircase. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The three conspirators grinned.

& & & & & &

Upstairs, Clark showered and laid out his and Bruce’s costumes. He had been very pleased to see Bruce with Dick and Melody. Any time that Bruce relaxed was a good thing.

Clark hummed as he put on his underwear. So far the evening had gone well, Dick and Melody thrilled with their part of the festivities.

The door opened and Bruce walked in. “I’m glad we were able to take the kids trick-or-treating.”

“They had a great time.”

The doorbell rang.

“Still at it, I see,” Bruce smirked. He came up behind Clark and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Clark’s shoulder.

Clark smiled. “All kids love trick-or-treating.” A shadow crossed his face, unseen by Bruce. His childhood was a mystery.

“The adults’ trick-or-treating is tonight,” Bruce said cheerfully.

Clark roused himself from his gloom. “Of course. The Ball is always fun.”

Bruce hugged him. “Love you,” he whispered.

Clark smiled as he turned around in Bruce’s embrace and kissed him.


	7. Roll Of The Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark overhears some disturbing conversation at the Halloween Ball.

_The roll  
Of the dice,  
Is sometimes  
Not  
So nice._

_And yet,  
The bet,_

_Can be  
A pearl  
Of   
Great price._

  


**Sam Ellison  
"Gamblin’ Man"   
(Song Lyrics)   
2163 C.E.**

Clark circulated among the guests, his Jovaran costume perfect for concealment. While it marked him as a slave, completely covered from head-to-toe, unless people had made note of his arrival with Bruce, he was a complete mystery.

His silver-blue robes, a _jattra_ , sparkled as he moved, blue-and-yellow beads encircling his waist and hanging around his neck. Beads jangled from a circlet around his head, his face completely Veiled. Even his eyes were hidden, and he liked the relative freedom of that concealment.

He also picked up snatches of conversation: the upcoming business merger of two of the biggest rivals of Wayne Enterprises; a scandalous affair between a vassal and a free chambermaid, and a failed investment in a slave breeding farm.

Clark walked to the buffet, glad he could eat by simply pushing aside the folds of his _javea_ , his hood-like head covering. A blue-and-silver domino would keep his eyes hidden if his hood accidentally fell away. 

Despite his slave costume, he felt freer than usual as he glided around the museum ballroom. His pick-up of information was easy: it was amazing how loose-tongued the wealthy could be in social situations. Servants, whether slave or free, were invisible to them, and speaking of intimate things was second nature to the upper classes.

In the next hour, Clark picked up a few juicy business tidbits that he filed away. Bruce would be pleased at the information.

Clark drank champagne, watching as the others of the house party enjoyed themselves. Out on the dance floor, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere swirled in long, flowing cloak and gown. Ollie and Dinah were excellent dancers.

Clark looked for his own lover, allowing himself to indulge in soulful gazes under the cover of his hood. He spotted Bruce, dressed as a Jovaran noble, similarly clad but with his face exposed except for the part covered by his domino mask. He was in animated conversation with the King of Siam.

Chuckling, Clark continued his circuit of the room, pausing beside a large potted palm. Laughter came from the other side, and a familiar voice spoke.

“The little strumpet _ran into me!_ He was mouthy and insolent and I taught him a lesson with my cane.”

Clark’s blood chilled at the sound of Edmund Caldwell’s voice.

“Yes, Bruce is rather lax with his slaves,” an unfamiliar female voice drawled.

“Lax!” snorted Edmund. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Another man spoke. “I wasn’t aware that Bruce lacked a firm hand.”

Edmund said, “He allows that circus brat to run at will. He should be kept on a leash.” 

The woman said, “I suppose, but it’s so _tiresome_ to keep slaves leashed all the time.”

“Tiresome!” Edmund exclaimed. “My dear woman, there is nothing more satisfying than the tug of a chain, watching a brat’s head snap back or have him yanked off his feet!” A cruel chuckle sent a shiver down Clark’s spine. “What could be done with a high-spirited spawn like that! It’d be a real pleasure breaking that spirit.” 

The woman tittered but the man sounded annoyed as he said, “Really, Edmund, can’t you leave the kids alone? Breaking a child’s spirit is no sport.”

Malicious glee laced Edmund’s voice. “Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.”

“I doubt that the Prince of Gotham would treat his slaves like that.”

“Prince of Gotham!” Edmund sneered. “He’s no Prince.”

The woman drawled, “Well, his family _is_ the Founding Family of Gotham.”

“Angeline, _my_ family is just as much a Founding Family as Bruce Wayne’s.”

“Yes, but Bruce is the _Prince_ , darling.”

It was Evangeline’s turn to speak with malicious glee.

Edmund didn’t respond, possibly from apoplexy. Clark decided to make a strategic retreat.

He stopped when he heard Alfred’s name.

“Yes, they say _he_ really runs Wayne Manor,” said Evangeline.

“Now _that_ is utter nonsense. Even that silly Brucie wouldn’t allow that.”

“But, Edmund, dear, Alfred is one of the best butlers around.”

“A _slave_ butler, my dear.”

“I hear he’s an awfully good cook.” The other man sounded sincere.

“Davis, what does good kitchen skills mean unless they are skills bent over the kitchen table?”

Evangeline tittered but Davis was silent for a moment, sounding annoyed again as he huffed, “Really, Edmund, that’s rather disrespectful of a loyal retainer like Alfred…”

 _“Respectful!”_ Edmund hissed. “The words _‘respectful’_ and _‘slave’_ do not go together, not in the context of a freeman toward a slave. The other way around, now, is required.”

“So Alfred’s skills aren’t worthy of respect?” Davis asked.

“I’d rather think about Bruce’s prize slut’s skills.”

“I agree,” came Evangeline’s amused voice.

“I’d love to see what’s under that Veil.”

“I’ll agree with you there,” Davis grumbled.

“I’d like to see him on his knees and using that talented mouth for something besides eating Alfred’s cooking.” Edmund chuckled.

Clark moved away, shaking as he slipped outside onto a deserted balcony.

He stared up at the moon, his left hand curled into a fist, his right hand worrying the beads on his belt.

He understood his vulnerability very well. He could not defend himself, and being referred to in disparaging terms was nothing new.

Edmund Caldwell scared him. More than ever he was grateful for Bruce. Fate had played a cruel trick on him by having him born a slave, but kind to him by the Master given him.

He would never forget that.

A hand on his shoulder startled him badly. Heart pounding, he whirled.

“Whoa, Clark, what’s wrong, love?”

Shaking like a leaf, Clark put his arms around his lover.

“Please, just hold me, Bruce,” he pleaded softly.

Bruce complied, running his hand up and down Clark’s back.

Clark closed his eyes, glad he felt safe as he always would in Bruce’s arms.


	8. In Their Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex learns some interesting information at his latest Hunt Committee meeting.

_And, lo,  
The earth  
Shall crack  
And tremble,  
Green fire  
Raining down  
Upon thee._

_The mountains  
Shall be shards  
Of glittering death,  
And the rivers  
Run with blood._

_And those who remain  
Shall be as the hunted,  
Crying out  
In their bondage,  
Scattered to the winds._

_Until the day  
When the Messiah  
Shall come  
On freedom’s rainbow   
And lead the faithful  
To glory  
Once again._

  


**Psalm 67  
Song Of The Savior   
"The Book Of Rao"   
Pre-Modern Krypton**

“Watch and observe, ladies and gentlemen.”

The screen flickered, a grainy image appearing. A figure flew across the screen, clad in a tight red costume with blue piping. He swooped down, heading for an enclosure filled with people dressed in rags.

Lex frowned. Some of the outbuildings looked like one of their outposts on the Rim. That probably explained the poor quality of the transmission, beamed from light-years away.

He watched the flying man. 

_No jetpack. A Kryptonian under a yellow sun._

Lex jerked slightly as an explosion of green liquid spattered all across the screen. The Kryptonian’s body jerked, his hand going to his throat. His entire body seized up, and he began falling from the sky.

Lex watched the man writhe on the ground, face contorted in agony. He felt his heart pound as the hand in his lap clenched and unclenched under the table.

He glanced away from the death throes, his gaze settling on Jamie. His slave was studiously avoiding the screen from his chair against the wall. Lex was pleased. A tender heart was a good thing in a slave.

He resolutely turned back to the screen. His father would be contemptuous of his own momentary lapse if he was here to see Lex’s reaction.

Even with the poor quality of the picture, Lex could see the green tinge to the skin as the man gasped his final breaths.

Elias Stark’s voice cut into the quiet of the room.

“It took this latest Kryptonian an hour to die.” Elias drank from his water glass. “Messy, but effective.” 

Lex felt his stomach knot. He had seen an execution like this before at an earlier meeting, but time had not soothed the harsh reality. 

“Green Kryptonite is highly effective, of course.” Elias frowned. “Only the Government is allowed to possess this wonderful substance, but Earth has a limited supply.”

The lone woman on the committee, Dre Costner, spoke up. “Isn’t there an unlimited supply floating around Krypton’s past coordinates?” She looked over the silver rim of her glasses.

“There was.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Was?”

Stark looked a little uncomfortable. “There was still plenty floating around at the site of the planet, but pirates and smugglers have done their work.” He took another drink of water. “Damned Corellians. And people wonder why we have a Decree on them.” 

“If it’s illegal to own Green K, whom are they selling it to? Certainly not the Empire.”

“No, not the Empire.” Stark smiled. “They sell it covertly to planetary governments, sometimes dictators or kings who live on yellow sun worlds. Those in power like to keep a hold on it.”

“Haven’t there been reports about smugglers bringing Green K to Earth?”

Stark’s expression was unreadable. “I haven’t heard anything like that.”

“And what about the rumor that there is a highly-specialized market for Kryptonians taken by the Government but not executed, instead sold as slaves?”

“That would be a very highly specialized market. If a Master took a Kryptonian to a yellow sun world, he’d be in big trouble.”

Dre’s expression was very cool. “Could there be a way to suppress their powers?”

“Not that I know of.”

Lex’s interest piqued. Could the Control Committee be working on something like that?

“And let’s say the rumors are true, Ms. Costner. A Master or Mistress knowingly taking a Kryptonian slave would risk imprisonment and confiscation of all their property by harboring a being under Hunt Decree.”

“What if they didn’t know?”

“They would have to prove it pretty conclusively.”

Lieutenant Jack Sullivan, Stark’s young aide, raised his hand. “But aren’t Kryptonians against slavery? Wouldn’t it be against their laws to enslave them?”

Dre looked impatient. “We all know that for Humans, once born a slave, always a slave, and the reverse is true, but we also know that other races have different rules. Beings captured in war or kidnapped to become slaves are sold all the time in the Empire. The Rigellians and Orions have trafficked in such unsavory practices for centuries. It’s better regulated now, but if someone was smart enough to hide a Kryptonian’s identity, they could get away with it. That highly specialized market would be for Masters looking for extremely exotic slaves, and the thought of an all-powerful Kryptonian, de-powered or not, under your control would be a rush for certain, sexually and otherwise.”

Lex silently agreed, the thought of such power at one’s command exhilarating. 

“Risky, but I suppose worth it since you can keep a Kryptonian enslaved forever,” Stark said. 

Jack’s blue eyes were stormy. “But the Slave Laws state here on Earth that if a Master wishes to free a slave who is not Human, he can petition the slave’s Home Government and if they give permission, the slave can be freed.”

“That’s certainly true, Lieutenant, but Krypton has no Government to petition anymore,” Stark said dryly.

“Oh.” 

Dre frowned, absently twirling a dreadlock. “This smuggling of Green K…it could be a way to control those Kryptonians in chains.”

“Highly fanciful,” Stark scoffed.

“Would it? A Kryptonian might choose slavery over certain death and so would keep quiet about his or her true identity, but would they stop trying to escape? A Master would have to be vigilant.”

“This story of Kryptonians as slaves sold in some highly secret exotic market is just an urban myth,” Stark said, impatience in his tone.

Dre frowned but said nothing further. Instead, Lex spoke up.

“How many Kryptonians have you killed this way?”

“At least a dozen, but there are other methods. As long as you have Green K, you’re all set.”

“Aren’t there hundreds of Kryptonians still out there? Surely not all of them were on Krypton when the end came.”

“Certainly, but the Hunt Decree has taken care of most of them. The ragged survivor bands out there aren’t much of a threat, but a Hunt means no exceptions.” Stark leaned forward. “We’re eradicating the bands as soon as we come upon them, of course.”

Dre said, “You say they’re no threat, but aren’t they ready to rally around a Messiah?”

“A Messiah?” Lex asked.

Dre nodded. “Kal-El. As son of Jor-El and Lara of the Ruling House of El, he would be uniquely placed to rally the survivors under one banner.”

“I thought that Kal-El perished on Krypton.”

“He might well have, though it’s said that his parents put him in a rocket that Jor-El had designed and launched him just in time.” Dre twirled her stylus. “Even if that were so, the rocket was probably destroyed by a meteor or something, but it’s a great myth to keep the people’s hopes up.”

“If the story is true, he must have handed on a non-yellow sun world, or perhaps he was one of those already killed.”

Stark waved his hand. “There are always pretenders.”

“You underestimate the power of symbolism, General,” Lex said mildly.

Stark shrugged. “A Hunt Decree trumps any fairy tale.”

Lex doodled the name Kal-El on his notepad. “Speaking of Decrees, shouldn’t we clean up some old ones?”

“Such as?” Stark raised an eyebrow.

“Such as the Romany Decree we discussed at an earlier meeting. Do we really need to continue to carry a Decree established in the late nineteenth century by people convinced all Roma were thieves and baby-stealers?” Lex sat back in his chair. ”What threat are a bunch of Gypsies, anyway?” 

Stark smirked. “The Roma are exceptional at deception, Lex. Despite the Decree some have managed to survive through the centuries.”

“But how?”

Stark shrugged. “It’s whispered that they have methods to conceal their true selves.”

“You can’t conceal DNA.”

“Who knows the way of the Roma?”

& & & & & &

When the meeting broke up, Jamie immediately attached himself to Lex.

“Let’s go.”

They left the building and emerged onto the streets of Washington, D.C.

For a moment, Lex just stared off into the distance, then said, “Come.” Jamie followed.

It was cold even in D.C., November winds blowing as scarves whipped around and hats were clutched by hurrying pedestrians. The ends of Lex’s long coat flapped, Jamie buttoning his own warm coat as they walked.

They traveled several blocks, then Lex asked, “Pretty barbaric way to die.”

“Very.”

Lex squinted against a gust of wind. “What do you know about Kal-El of Krypton?”

“Just what Ms. Costner said.”

“Mmm.” Lex put gloves on and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I would like to know more about this legend.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lex smiled slightly. He would have a complete report in a short amount of time.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I know that your eventual goal is to join the committee for control of Kryptonians, but…”

“You may speak freely.”

“Is it really productive to just kill all these people?”

“What, you mean the Government doesn’t do what’s best for us?”

Jamie’s mouth quirked at the obvious sarcasm. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to form an alliance with a race that can gain incredible powers under the right sun?”

“Well, my Prize, the Kryptonians have this little peccadillo: they’re Abolitionists.”

“Ah.”

“You see, the Earth Government frowns upon such an attitude.” Lex braced himself as the wind blew strongly. “The Empire loathes it.”

Jamie frowned. “Do you think that rumor about Kryptonians sold as slaves is true?”

Lex shrugged. “There are always wild tales out there, though even the wildest have shreds of truth.” He blinked as a harsh gust of wind blew down the street. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep our ears open.”

They fell silent for several minutes as they walked, then Lex asked, “Care for some lunch, my beauty?”

Jamie smiled. “I’d like that, Master.”

“Good.”

Lex and his companion walked into the wind.


	9. Ornamental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decorating the tree is a family tradition.

_Glassine,  
Glittering,  
Gorgeous._

_Delicate,  
Designed,  
Delightful._

_Sunlit,  
Spinning,  
Sparkling._

_Ornaments…  
Beauty  
Incarnate._

  


**Emily Adams Cutler  
"Yellow Roses And Other Poems"   
1859 C.E.**

Dick’s eyes were huge as he gazed at the towering tree in the living room. It smelled of evergreen goodness as he touched a branch.

“You like it, Dick?” Bruce asked in amusement.

“We had Christmas trees in our trailer, but never _this_ big!”

“Decorating it is a four-man job. Right, Clark, Alfred?”

Clark smiled as he and Alfred nodded. They began opening boxes filled with generations of ornaments. Dick eagerly looked into the boxes, fingers hovering over delicate glass.

“Go on,” Bruce encouraged.

Dick picked out a glass ball etched in a snowman design. It was very old but beautiful.

“That’s a 1930s ornament. Lord William brought it back from England as a present for his son.”

“Lord William?”

“A grandfather with many ‘greats’ before his name.” Bruce winked.

Dick smiled and hung up the ornament on the tree.

There were many interesting stories to go with the baubles fascinating Dick. Clark and Alfred knew the stories but enjoyed hearing them again while they decorated, Bruce lifting out a hand-blown ornament shaped like a Union soldier.

“This was purchased during the Civil War, of course. During Christmas of 1862 most of the male Waynes were in the service. Most were on the Northern side, though a few went South.” Sunlight glittered off the bauble, Bruce very carefully placing the hook on a branch. “Out of four sons, two were killed, one lost his leg, and the remaining son came home, but of course he’d been affected, too.”

“I’m sorry, Bruce.”

Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair. “I’m sorry, too. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you the story. Kind of depressing.”

“No, it’s okay. Not all family history is happy.”

“True.”

“Mom and Dad told me about our family having a great circus tradition, performing for the crowned heads of Europe. Mom said our ancestors performed for President Lincoln during the War.”

“Ah, quite a pedigree.”

“I agree,” Alfred chimed in. “My family comes from a long line of butlers and ladies-in-waiting. There has always been a Pennyworth in residence at Buckingham Palace.” 

“You have a last name?” Dick asked.

Alfred nodded. “It’s a way to keep track of lineage. Legally, of course, I have no last name, but a Pennyworth bloodline tells a prospective buyer what to expect.”

“Like me descended from the Grayson line!”

“Quite.”

Bruce listened to the pride in his slaves’ voices. He was glad that they had a family history. Not many slaves did.

Bruce felt his stomach tighten as he looked at Clark. His lover’s face was shadowed, and Dick noticed it, too.

“Master, what’s the story on this ornament?”

“Ah, well…”

Bruce was warmed by Dick’s action. Trying to distract Clark was the work of a good-hearted child.

He was very proud.

& & & & & &

“It’s really starting to come together.” Dick looked critically at the tree. Bruce laughed and said, “You’re right.” Alfred came in with a new box. “Dick, we still need to put on a few more ornaments.”

Dick turned and saw the cardboard box with the scrawled word, Baubles. He ran to Alfred and opened the box.

“Our old ornaments!”

Bruce nodded. “When we brought your things from the trailer, this box was included.”

Excitedly Dick lifted out an ornament. It was delicate and sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“See, it’s St. Nicholas. This is an old German ornament. One of my ancestors picked it up in Europe while touring before the crowned heads. One with many greats before his name.” Dick winked.

Bruce laughed at his little boy’s sauciness. “Such dash and style.” 

“Oh, there are lots of goodies in there. Clark, Alfred, would you help me put all these up? C’mon, Bruce.”

Bruce was delighted that his little boy felt comfortable enough to take charge. Slave or not, Dick Grayson was irrepressible.

Light and Love were his gifts.

& & & & & &

It was bitterly cold as night began to fall, Clark bundled up as he stared out at the sea by the wall. Dick’s boots forged through the snow, as silent as when he was Robin.

The lighthouse winked in the distance, its mournful sound carrying across the waves.

It sounded as mournful as Clark looked.

Dick hugged Clark, bringing a small smile to the older slave’s face. Clark’s hand caressed Dick’s back, then his arm went around the small body.

They both watched a freighter slide by on the horizon.

& & & & & &

Bruce knotted his scarf around his neck as he left the kitchen. He was concerned about Clark. All the talk of family and lineage had upset him.

_He has no memories of his family, or even if he had one._

Bruce hoped that Clark considered he and Alfred and Dick his family.

_Of course he does. It’s just nice to know your heritage._

Bruce stopped.

_Looks like Dick beat me to it._

Dick’s bright little presence was just what Clark needed.

Bruce quietly stood on Clark’s other side, two beloved faces welcoming him. He touched Dick’s cap, then slid his arm around Clark’s waist. 

New Year’s was less than a month away. Another blessed year that was ending, blessed in that Dick had come into their lives, and he and Clark were happy together. 

The stars twinkled overhead, a thousand planets of the Empire, but more beautiful than dangerous as viewed from Earth. They watched the moonlight sparkle on the water, the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below.

He would have reason to remember this night of happiness as chaos descended before the glitter of the New Year had barely faded.


	10. Pretty Birdie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin run into trouble…BIG trouble…while on a routine patrol.

_Robins  
Should always  
Be free_

_Just between  
You  
And me._

_How sad  
Would  
It be_

_To no longer  
Hear him sing,_

_No longer  
See him  
Take wing?_

  


**Emily Adams Cutler  
"Yellow Roses And Other Poems"   
1859 C.E.**

Moonlight glimmered in snowy Gotham, the January wind cutting down alleys and across the Common. People were staying inside, avoiding the cold.

Not so for the two leaping over rooftops as they kept watch over the quiet city.

The frosty night sparkled with cold. Robin loved it, the air getting his blood going. He wore flesh-colored tights to protect his legs, but the temperature didn’t bother him.

He reveled in it.

The stars twinkled overhead, Robin picking out the Big Dipper as he launched a grapple hook. Swinging upward, he landed lightly on the Clock Tower, Batman right behind him.

“Quiet tonight,” Batman said.

Robin nodded. “Too cold.”

“For wimps.”

Robin grinned. He peered over the edge, seeing a nearly-empty street.

“Hey, there’s a light flickering over in that building.”

“Hmm, so there is.”

With a flash of teeth, Robin launched a decel line and was gone.

& & & & & &

The office building was dark, Robin slipping through the halls. He listened quietly, hoping that it was only a night guard or someone on the cleaning staff.

Then again, catching a crook would be good practice for him. He grinned in the dark as he heard a noise.

& & & & & &

Batman murmured quietly into his commlink. Clark was giving him information on the major tenants of this building.

_“Clarkson Industries; Abercrombie, Beale, and Braddock, Attorneys-At-Law; Mellor Imports/Exports; The Monarch Playing Card Company; The Brazelton Modeling Agency…”_

“Wait, back up. Did you say _The Monarch Playing Card Company?”_

 _“Yes.”_ A muffled curse. _“Batman, there’s been a break-out from Arkham.”_

Batman’s fingers clutched the roof ledge.

“Oh, no…” he whispered, vaulting over the roof.

& & & & & &

Robin sneaked into the office with the flickering light. If it were a guard or cleaning person, he would stay in the shadows and not startle or frighten them.

But if it was a crook…

Robin smiled as he saw the light in the inner office. 

Probably a burglar with a flashlight. He silently began to push the door open further.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open, nearly knocking Robin off his feet. Robin’s heart leapt into his throat as he stared at the ‘burglar’.

& & & & & &

Batman slid down from the skylight, landing as lightly as a cat on the floor. He read every door until he came to _The Monarch Playing Card Company._ Clamping down on his trembling, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

He found the note in the inner office pinned to the wall by a purple-handled dagger.

_Bats! I have the Little Birdie. Pretty little thing. He needs his wings clipped._

_Remember our last meeting place? Come on over. We’ll be waiting._

Batman ripped the note off the wall.

& & & & & &

Little puffs of breath drifted in the cold air, Batman locking down the Batmobile as he took to the roofs of the warehouse district.

He was silent, a wraith in the night. Heart pounding wildly, he could remember the shock and fear in Clark’s voice as he said, _“The Joker_ has Robin?!”

Not his bright little boy, his courageous child, his partner…

Partner. Yes. That boy was depending on him. Partners looked out for each other. 

_But he’s only gone up against common thugs and thieves so far, or criminals like the Penguin or Riddler, not a psychopath like the Joker._

All the more reason to get to Robin _quickly._

Batman knew this would be one of the most important missions of his life. He swept over to the roof of the abandoned warehouse, black cape fluttering.

He had to stay focused for his partner…his boy.

Batman stealthily glided over the roof, kneeling by the skylight.

His heart lurched.

Robin was draped in the Joker’s arms, bonelessly graceful even while unconscious. The Joker’s purple glove was stroking his hair as he smirked down at his captive.

Then again, the Joker always smiled.

Batman forced himself to take deep breaths. He had to be very careful. Villains like the Penguin and Riddler were smart.

The Joker was insanely brilliant.

& & & & & &

Jim Gordon watched the Bat-ignal shine against the night sky. So the Bat wasn’t answering.

That could mean he was unavailable or already aware of the Arkham break-out. 

Jim hoped it was the latter.

“Commissioner?”

Jim turned. “Yes?”

The patrolman was young and nervous. “A hot tip, sir. The Joker was seen in the old warehouse he used before.” The young man nearly crumpled the note in his hand. “He had a small figure in red-yellow-and-green with him.”

“Damn.” Jim took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “All right. Let’s get a squad over there.” As the officer turned. Jim added, _“Quietly.”_

The patrolman nodded.

& & & & & &

Batman entered the warehouse, ever aware of potential booby traps.

If Robin was awake, he would help in his own rescue. Unconscious, it was up to Batman to save him.

He could hear the crooning drift up to the rafters. 

_“Pretty little birdie/Sittin’ in a tree/Pretty little birdie/Just you and me…”_

Batman’s blood ran cold as he inched along the catwalk. He saw the drape of yellow cape over Robin’s body, fearful of what he might find under it. He had to concentrate.

“Pretty Birdie, why should the Big, Bad Bat have you? You’re too pretty for that ol’ sourpuss.”

Batman crept down the catwalk ladder. Just a few more minutes…

“You’re a bright, cheerful lad. Certainly not fitting for someone so dark and gloomy. Bet he doesn’t even let you take souvenirs from your victories, hmm?” The Joker stroked Robin’s cape.

Just a few more inches…

“Honestly, Bats, you’re such a party pooper. But I always take a souvenir from my victories.” The Joker whipped out an ugly, serrated blade and pressed it to Robin’s throat just above his Peter Pan collar. The Joker’s eyes glittered as he turned his head. “Utility belt. Over here. _Now.”_

Batman obeyed, sliding the belt over to the Joker, who cackled in satisfaction. “Come to stand over here. No tricks, or Pretty Bird will bleed out.”

Batman watched the light glinting off the knife, the Joker’s flippant joviality not fooling him: the criminal’s hand on the knife was rock-steady.

“Let him go, Joker.”

The Clown Prince pouted. “A bright little thing like this should be with a cheerful sort, not with _you_ , Batsy.”

“He’s happy with me.”

“Pshaw!” The Joker waved his free hand. “A boy needs to play. All work and no play make Robin a dull boy.”

“He’s a happy boy, Joker. Please let me have him.”

“You can’t raise a child!”

Batman bit back his retort of “And _you_ can?” It definitely would do no good to anger the madman.

“I’ll take better care of him, I promise.” Batman held out his hands, desperate to get his boy back.

The Joker hummed as the knife pressed into Robin’s skin, a thin trickle of blood running down his yellow collar. Batman’s heart triphammered.

“Such beauty should be preserved forever.”

The Joker began his slice and Batman moved.

& & & & & &

Clark’s hands twisted the cord of his robe, worry suffusing his features.

“So the Joker has Dick?” Alfred asked quietly.

“Bruce thinks so.” Clark looked pale. Grateful that he was sitting down, he battled dizziness as he stared at the computer screen. **ARKHAM BREAK-OUT!** screamed the Gotham City website. **JOKER ON THE LOOSE! BAT-SIGNAL BURNING BRIGHTLY!**

“Dick must have been taken by surprise. Master Bruce says he is an exceptional crimefighter.”

“But up against a psycho like the Joker…”

Alfred squeezed his shoulder. “We are all vulnerable to the cruelties and vagaries of the world, Clark. Those like you, me, and Dick more so than most.”

Clark felt his throat constrict, watching the play of light on his manacles.

Beautiful in their rainbow glory.

Marking him as vulnerable.

“I wish I could be with them.” Clark closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Alfred said, ““We must trust in Master Bruce.” The butler squeezed his shoulder again. “We must trust in the Batman.”

“I know.”

& & & & & &

Batman’s hand knocked the knife out of the Joker’s hand, the clown letting Robin’s body roll away as he leapt to his feet.

Momentarily distracted, Batman was driven back by a well-placed punch. He immediately counter-attacked, bringing his ninja training to bear as he forced his adversary away from Robin.

The Joker was a tenacious and unpredictable enemy. Batman used all his senses and skills to drive the Clown Prince back. Fear for Robin might have handicapped him at first, but now it drove him forward with crackling energy, delivering blow after blow with relentless precision.

“Batsy, you are more of a party pooper than ever.” Despite ducking a blow, the Joker managed to pout. “Drat, you made me do…well, I could have had fun with that boy!” He kicked out, barely missing the Bat. “The boy’s full of life! Quips puns with the best of ‘em! Could always use a sunny sidekick.”

“He’s not much into criminal activity, Joker. Except in stopping it.”

The Joker sighed melodramatically. “See, you’re stifling the lad!”

Batman answered with another flurry of kicks. The Joker answered with an attack of his own, but the Batman landed a blow to the head that sent the clown sprawling. Batman pressed his advantage, knocking out the Joker.

Quickly cuffing him and looping the chain around a pipe, Batman turned to Robin and scooped him up off the floor.

“Robin, are you all right? Talk to me!”

Robin was limp in his arms, pale in the moonlight streaming in through the warehouse windows. Fear trickled down his spine.

Robin’s head moved, and Batman quickly pushed the lenses back in his mask. Blue eyes looked into his.

“B…Batman?”

“Right here, kid.” Batman took hold of his partner’s hand and squeezed it. “Always right here.”

“I love you,” Robin said quietly as he smiled.

Batman kissed his brow. “I love you, too.”

Batman pulled his cape over Robin, hugging the little boy.

& & & & & &

Jim Gordon stepped out of the police car, gazing at the warehouse.

“What’s the story?”

The gray-haired captain answered, “We saw the Batman enter through the skylight. We decided to wait for you, sir. Do we announce we’re here, or wait?”

“We wait.”

“Commissioner, look!”

Jim saw the dark figure striding out, his arm around the shoulders of the brightly-garbed boy walking by his side.

“Robin! Are you all right?”

Robin flashed a smile. “I’m fine, Commissioner!”

Greatly relieved, Jim ruffled the boy’s hair. “The Joker?”

“Inside,” Batman answered.

“Good.” Jim rested a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “We’ll bring him back to Arkham.”

“Thank you, Commissioner.”

Jim nodded, squeezing the little boy’s shoulder. “Take your partner home, Batman.”

Batman nodded, escorting Robin away.

& & & & & &

The Batmobile roared into the Cave, Clark and Alfred immediately on their feet. Alfred stood close to Clark, aware of his friend’s pale face and slight trembling. In case he needed help, Alfred would be right there.

The doors opened and Batman came out, but Alfred and Clark’s eyes were on the smaller figure that bounced out and ran to them

Dick threw himself into Clark’s arms, Clark hugging him tightly, Alfred putting his arms around Dick, letting their love pour into the child.

“My little boy,” Clark whispered, smoothing Dick’s hair.

Yes, Dick was their little boy, precious indeed.


	11. Hawk's Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex comes home to find an awkward situation.

_"A gentleman should never poach another man’s slave."_

  


**Bertram Ellison Adams  
"The Gentleman’s Code"   
1832 C.E.**

Lex’s footsteps echoed as he traversed the gleaming foyer. He studied the print-outs he held, mentally running over his plans for the meeting tomorrow.

He walked down the hall, starting to slow down as he reached the library.

“Such a fine, smooth…”

Lex stepped into the library, fingers crumpling the print-outs. His father turned his head and smiled, hand at his belt.

Jamie was bent over the desk, clothes crumpled on the floor. He looked at Lex with entreaty in his green eyes.

Lionel stroked Jamie’s smooth buttocks, a wolfish smile on his face.

“He’s beautiful, Lex. No wonder you keep him in your bed.”

Lex forced his expression to remain calm. He walked over to the desk, opposite his father.

“You know, Dad, you should ask permission before taking my slave.”

“Now, haven’t we always shared?”

Lex’s fingers brushed the top of Jamie’s head. “You like to share, Dad. As in ‘not getting permission’.”

Lionel laid a hand on Jamie’s buttock casually. “You would deny your father such a luscious Prize?”

“I would.” Lex rested his hand on Jamie’s hair. “Jamie is mine to do with as I wish, Dad, and I wish to keep him exclusive to me. Is that too much to ask?”

Lionel sighed, stepping back as he zipped up his pants. “As you wish, son.”

“Oh, and don’t un-Veil my Prize, either. » Lex picked up the dark glasses from the desk, his fingers combing through Jamie’s silky hair.

Lionel smirked. “Very well.” He swaggered out of the room.

Lex relaxed. “Get up, Jamie.” His slave obeyed, not looking at him. “Get dressed.”

“Yes, Master,” Jamie said faintly.

Lex detected…shame?…in the voice. He looked at his slave fumbling to get his clothes on. He came around the desk and gripped Jamie’s arm. “Did he hurt you?”

Jamie tugged his pants on. “N…No, Master.”

Lex cupped his chin, tilting his slave’s head up. He saw the guilt and shame in emerald eyes.

“I’m not angry with you.” Lex brushed his thumb across Jamie’s cheek. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jamie nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Lex removed his hand, watching Jamie dress. He clamped down on his anger, not wanting to upset Jamie more. When he was finished dressing, Lex said, “With me.”

Jamie nodded, slipping his glasses back on. He followed Lex out through the French doors and into the gardens after Lex summoned a slave to get their coats, hats, boots and gloves from the foyer closet. He would have sent Jamie but he didn’t want him out of his sight.

The air was cold and clear, Lex digging a lavender scarf out of his pocket and winding it around Jamie’s neck, knotting it. His stomach tangled as Jamie smiled shyly at him.

Their boots crunched on hard-packed snow, a hawk flying overhead, looking for field mice.

They walked past hollyberry bushes, English boxwood, and bare rosebushes. Wind blew harshly, singing mournfully through the trees.

Once they were behind a huge blue spruce tree and shielded from the house, Lex stopped and faced Jamie.

“I meant what I said. It wasn’t your fault. As a slave, you can’t fight my father.” Wry humor quirked his mouth. “I’m surprised it took him this long to try something.” Jamie smiled nervously and Lex pushed a strand of hair back from his face. “I’ll keep you by my side as much as I can, but I can’t guarantee he won’t…take you.” Jamie bit his lip and nodded. “If he _does_ take you, tell me. I _need_ to know.” Jamie nodded again. 

“I promise, Master.”

Jamie turned his head and brushed his cheek against Lex’s palm. Leaf-green eyes shimmered like a deep grove in summer.

Lex felt protectiveness surge up in him. His father might still win and take his slave’s body, but not his loyalty.

Nor Jamie’s need for him.

Lex took his slave’s hand and they resumed walking.

& & & & & &

High up on the widow’s walk, Lionel Luthor watched the two in the snowy gardens. 


	12. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out begins.

_“A Master should never allow a slave liberties. He will always regret it."_

  


**"The Slaveowners’ Manual"  
2222 C.E.  
(26th Edition)**

_“Clark! Bruce! Come on in! The water’s fine!”_

_Dick splashed in the waves, darting around like a dolphin as he laughed and gamboled. Clark and Bruce exchanged happy glances. Hand-in-hand they walked down the beach._

_Calliope music began to play and Dick grew excited, swimming toward the sound._

_Suddenly the waves parted and a brightly-colored figure broke the surface, startling Dick._

_“Dick! Get away!” Clark screamed._

_The clown face grinned evilly and grabbed Dick, who struggled furiously._

_“Clark! Bruce! **Help me!”**_

_Clark tried to run forward but his feet were stuck in the sand. Bruce did no better, though Clark begged him to save Dick._

_The Joker’s maniacal laugh hurt Clark’s ears. “C’mere, little birdie. We can have lots of fun together.” The Joker slipped an arm around Dick’s neck and began swimming away. “Just you and me, under the sea…” A knife glinted in the sun._

_“No!” Clark struggled as the Clown Prince pressed the knife to Dick’s throat._

_“Just you and me…” The Joker crooned into Dick’s ear as they disappeared under the sea, now a rich, deep red…_

_Clark screamed._

& & & & & &

He awoke with Bruce’s hands gripping his arms.

“It’s all right, Clark, it’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Clark slipped out of Bruce’s grasp and out of bed, put on his robe, and quickly went to Dick’s room.

The boy was in a deep sleep, exhaustion shadowing his face. Clark gently stroked his hair with a featherlight touch.

Bruce appeared in the doorway, tying his robe’s sash. “He’s all right, Clark.”

“He can’t be Robin anymore.”

& & & & & &

Bruce blinked. Uncertain of how to proceed, he cautiously approached the bed.

“Clark…”

“He nearly died.”

“I…”

Bruce gazed down at the sleeping child, his stomach knotting at the memory of the Joker nearly slitting Dick’s throat.

Several minutes later Clark rose and left the room. Bruce gently caressed Dick’s hair, then followed Clark.

Back in their bedroom, Clark was pacing. Bruce closed the door behind him.

“Clark, what’s going on?”

Clark stopped and looked at Bruce. “He can’t go back out there.”

“I know it was a close call…”

_“Close call?!_ He was almost _killed_ out there!”

“It’s dangerous out there.”

Clark’s eyes sparked. “Don’t you care that he almost died?”

Anger rose in Bruce. _“Of course_ I do!” He frowned as he crossed his arms. “I know you got scared, Clark, so was I, but Dick burns for justice as I do. He shares the Mission…”

“The Mission!” Clark’s jaw clenched in anger. “The Mission isn’t more important than Dick!”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“But you will let him continue going out there.”

Bruce said nothing but Clark could read his expression. He walked past Bruce on his way out.

“Clark…”

Clark turned back. “Are you going to continue?”

“Yes, that’s my decision.” Bruce set his jaw. Princely blood surged in his veins as his crossed arms tightened.

“So that’s it? The _Master’s_ decision? So much for a partnership beyond the manacles.”

“Clark, you’re…”

“…defying you? Yes, I am. You can drag me down to the whipping post in the garden.”

With a swirl of his robe, Clark was gone, leaving Bruce in a state of semi-shock.

& & & & & &

Clark strode down the hall, entering the guest room on the other side of Dick’s room. He shut the door, shaking with anger…and the realization of what he’d just done.

He winced as a sharp pain sliced through his head. Bruce would be furious with him, but he could not back down. Dick’s safety…his _life_ …was at stake.

He crawled into bed with a moan, pulling the covers up over his aching head.


	13. Clark's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out continues.

_Sometimes  
We do  
What we must._

  


**Ellen Grainger  
"Domestic War Zone"   
2100 C.E.**

“Sir?”

Alfred was stunned to find Clark in the guest room the next morning. Bruce was coming out of his room already dressed with a troubled expression on his face.

“Clark and I will be sleeping separately for awhile, Alfred.”

“Oh, sir, not again.”

Bruce said brusquely, “It was _his_ choice.”

Alfred was truly stunned now. _Clark’s choice?_ What in the name of the Queen…?

“I’ll be having breakfast in the city.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alfred watched Bruce go down the staircase.

& & & & & &

Clark was just as tight-lipped as Bruce, eating very little at breakfast. After he left to go back upstairs to dress, Dick looked at Alfred.

“Alfred, what’s going on?”

“A disagreement, I fear.”

“Yeah, but over what?”

Alfred glanced at Dick. He stood up to clear the table. “Neither will say. How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine.” Dick rubbed his throat, a thin red line standing out against his skin. “I’ll be ready to go back out tonight.”

“Master Bruce doesn’t object?”

“No, otherwise he would have already told me. Though he shouldn’t object. We have close calls. Can’t let that stop us.”

Alfred’s back was to Dick as he filled the dishwasher. He smiled. The boy had spunk.

“After your lesson, come join me in the garden.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dick brought over his plate and glass and put them in the dishwasher, then hurried to get dressed.

Alfred sighed. Dick almost dying, and now this? The fight had to have been about that.

 _Clark’s_ choice.

So Bruce had allowed him to leave his bed?

That would never have happened before they had acknowledged their love for each other, but he was still certain that Master Bruce had not been happy with such disobedience, and that was bound to cause considerable strain on their relationship.

It was the first real test of whether they could survive as Master and slave and Beloveds as well.

& & & & & &

Dick was waiting for Clark when his teacher arrived in the library. Once Clark sat down, he asked, “Is everything all right?”

“As long as you are.” Clark smiled.

“I’m fine, Clark. But you and Bruce…?”

“…are not seeing eye-to-eye.”

“On what?” Clark bit his lip. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Clark looked down at his book. “You were nearly killed.”

Dick felt affection sweep through him. “I’m fine, Clark.”

“Good. I want you to stay that way.” Clark opened his book. “Page 262, please.”

Dick obeyed, upset over the fight but deciding to talk to Bruce when he came home. Clark was being very stubborn.

& & & & & &

Bruce came home in time for patrol, Dick noticing a pale Clark going to the guest room.

Down in the Batcave, Bruce was more Bat, grimly pulling on his gauntlets without a word.

The entire ride to Gotham was silent, Robin deciding to stay quiet for now.

Batman parked the Batmobile on the outskirts of the city and they went in.

& & & & & &

Robin was accustomed to periods of silence working with the Bat. He welcomed it as they patrolled in concert, Robin feeling good about getting back into the swing of things.

He needed that.

The first take-down of the night was fairly simple: a gang of teenagers harassing a gay couple, spouting epithets that made Robin burn with anger. 

Were these people stuck in the 21st century? What vile creatures were they?

Stupid ones, at any rate.

Batman nodded and Robin swooped down in their midst, startling them as he punched and kicked. Curses were thrown his way but he merely smiled.

The old trope that banning handguns would result in only criminals possessing them was not completely true. Criminals could get guns if they were willing to pay exorbitant sums. Petty crooks could not afford anything but knives, and they flashed those weapons now.

Robin easily dodged the knives, knocking out two of the gang while the others began to converge.

“The Bat!” yelled a terrified voice.

The rustle of silken batwings set the rest of the gang running. Robin trussed up the two unconscious thugs.

“Let’s make a delivery,” Batman rasped. He turned to the terrified couple. “You all right?”

“Y…Yes, Batman.” The speaker was holding hands tightly with his partner. “Thanks to you and Robin.”

“You’re welcome,” Robin chirped with a smile.

The men smiled back.

Batman lifted one thug, Robin the lighter one, and they flew off, headed for Police Headquarters.

& & & & & &

Jim Gordon wandered over to his office window to get some fresh air. Thank the heavens air pollution was long a thing of the past. How had people been able to live, breathing in carcinogens every second?

Downtown Gotham was a familiar sight, old-fashioned buildings mixed with the new, Wayne Tower at the center of it all.

Jim liked the sight. Gotham appealed to him with its mix of old and new. Crime was part of the fabric, but that was true of every major Earth city. Gotham used to be a sinkhole of crime and corruption, one of the worst in America, but it was still no shining city on a hill.

 _Guess that’s a good thing, or I’d be out of a job_ , Jim chuckled.

The Govs would stick their noses in, their surveillance and other methods of keeping tabs including the populace instead of just criminals an irritant, but they essentially left the policing to his department.

A blur of color caught his eye, and he smiled as he saw the small but energetic figure swoop down and deposit a bound teenager none-too-gently on the sidewalk, a darker, larger figure doing the same with his heavier burden.

_Hmm, another two who’d be jobless if there was no crime._

His officers hurried out and took custody of the thugs, receiving an explanation from the Dynamic Duo.

_Glad to see Robin’s okay._

Jim watched the two costumed crimefighters fly away on their lines, all right with the world.

& & & & & &

Even if all was not right at Wayne Manor. 


	14. Simmering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is determined to get Bruce and Clark back together.

_"The longer a pot on the stove simmers, it gets more savory, but keep watch over it so that it doesn’t boil over and make a mess."_

  


**Martha Kent  
2236 C.E.**

Clark awoke, shivering as he pulled the covers up more tightly to his chin.

It was quiet in the Manor at this hour. At four o’clock, patrol should be finished. He listened for any noises but all was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the ocean.

He tried not to think of Dick’s first night out as Robin after the kidnapping.

He tried not to think of removing himself from his Master’s bed.

Bruce would well be within his rights to whip him for such insolence, thinking of the whipping post in the garden that now served as a rose trellis. He had dared defy his Master and deny him his body, which was his primary duty, after all!

But what could he do? If he and Bruce were to be more than Master and slave, shouldn’t Bruce listen to him instead of pulling out the Master card and high-handedly making the decision about Dick?

Was he still just a slave to Bruce?

Wincing from his headache, he burrowed deeper into the covers.

& & & & & &

“Good job tonight.” Bruce pulled off his gauntlets and Dick bounced happily.

“Thanks, Bruce!” He removed his cape and gauntlets, wiggling his toes as he removed his pixie boots. “So, what’s up with you and Clark?”

Bruce froze in the act of removing his cape. “That needn’t concern you.”

“’Course it does.” Dick unlaced his tunic. “We’re family, right?”

Bruce’s expression was unreadable, his cowl still on. Dick continued to cheerfully disrobe and grabbed a towel as he headed for the showers.

& & & & & &

After a snack in the kitchen, Bruce and Dick headed upstairs. Dick said “Good night” in a soft voice and went into his room, Bruce’s “Good night” trailing after him.

Bruce sighed as he entered his room, glancing at the empty bed, a mixture of pain and irritation slicing through him. Royal blood boiled as he thought of his slave’s defiance, the urge to punish strong in him, but then he sighed again.

He brushed his teeth and returned to the bedroom, untying his robe as he slid into bed, his arms sliding across empty space. Shivering, he pulled the covers up.

The whole day had felt wrong, from waking up alone to breakfast in town to a day filled with meetings and reports while his mind tried to wrap itself around Clark’s rebellion.

He understood Clark’s fears. Did he think that Bruce wasn’t afraid, too? But he understood what drove the boy. Apparently Clark didn’t.

Bruce also knew that that this was unexplored territory. Maybe he and Clark had been deluding themselves that a Master/slave and lovers’ relationship could work.

Utterly weary, Bruce fell into a troubled sleep.

& & & & & &

When Dick awoke the next morning, he was determined to fix things between Bruce and Clark. He hated that he was the cause of this rift.

He was afraid that the breach would never be fully healed. As lovers they could make things up, but as Master and slave…?

Dick knew that rebellious slaves were not looked upon kindly by their Masters, even very kind and considerate ones like Bruce. If this went on too long…

Dick bounced out of bed, quickly showered and dressed, and went down to breakfast.

The kitchen was empty except for Alfred, who smiled in greeting.

“Good morning, Dick! And what is your preference this morning?”

“Pancakes, please.”

Dick set his place, then started to set two others.

“No need of that. Master Bruce has already left for the city and Clark is not feeling well. He will be remaining in bed.”

Dick frowned. “The guest room bed.”

“Yes.”

Dick sat down and put his face in his hands. “What are we going to do with these two, Alfred?”

Amusement laced Alfred’s voice. “What, indeed?”

& & & & & &

Bruce went through another strange day, seemingly normal on the surface but possessing a dream-like quality.

He simply wasn’t used to defiance, whether as Bruce Wayne or Batman. Clark being so _adamant_ had shaken him.

Bruce knew that he possessed a dichotomy of self-analysis: he could be both brutally honest and self-delusional. He understood his strengths and weaknesses as a businessman and crimefighter.

He was less certain of them as a person.

He expected to be obeyed. That he knew about himself very well. While he gave Alfred unprecedented free rein in running the Household, and certainly was lenient in many things with Clark and Dick, he would never countenance disobedience.

And yet here he was, allowing Clark to leave his bed.

He had to re-establish his authority, and they could go from there.

& & & & & &

Bruce’s opportunity to re-assert control came as soon as he got home. He met Clark in the second floor hall.

“Come,” he said, deliberately allowing imperiousness to enter his tone.

A tired-looking Clark, dressed in robe and pajamas, obeyed.

They entered the master bedroom and Bruce turned to face him at the foot of the bed. “You belong here.” He took hold of Clark’s arms, leaning forward to brush his lips over Clark’s unresponsive ones.

“Are you ordering me back to your bed?”

Anger coursed through Bruce and he tightened his hold. He looked at Clark’s tired eyes and let his hands slip away. Weariness and guilt slipped through his bones.

“No, Clark.”

Clark left Bruce standing alone in his bedroom.

& & & & & &

Dinner that evening was excruciating with only the clink of silverware echoing in the cavernous dining room. Dick thought it a waste of Alfred’s excellent cooking because little was eaten.

He went to bed after patrol still trying to figure out to get two stubborn men back together.

& & & & & &

Dick awoke early the next morning. He went to the bathroom and his on his way back to bed he peeked out and saw Clark walking toward the seawall.

The warm bed was certainly inviting, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. He dressed and slipped downstairs, putting on coat, hat and gloves, tying a scarf around his neck as he quietly went out the kitchen door.

It was cold this January morning but also bright and clear. Dick never minded cold. He liked the way he felt more energetic in this kind of weather.

The soft shush of his boots through the snow alerted Clark to his presence. Clark smiled as Dick came up to his side, leaning on the seawall.

The ocean was frosty-blue, whitecaps bobbing as the waves sparkled under the winter sun. A freighter sailed slowly on the horizon as seagulls flew by, impudently looking for a hand-out.

“I’m okay, Clark.”

“I know.” Clark’s gloved hand ruffled the hair not covered by Dick’s hat.

“So why are you so angry with Bruce?”

Clark watched the freighter. “He won’t discuss it. Just…orders.”

Dick laughed. “Sounds like the Prince.” His eyes were very blue as he looked at Clark, who looked back. “And he is the Prince.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Do you feel it in your bones?” Dick reached out and squeezed Clark’s hand. “It’s in his blood. He can’t help himself. This lovers thing is new to him.”

Affection softened Clark’s eyes. “You’re very perceptive.”

Dick grinned. "Of _course.”_ His smile faded. “Clark, I know you’re worried about me. I understand that and, believe me, it makes me feel good.” Bright smile again. “But you and I both know how it goes for people like us. Remember when I was pestering Bruce to train me and he was so reluctant? You supported me because you know how we’re at risk every second of every day.” He squeezed Clark’s hand again. “I need to do this, Clark.”

Clark’s eyes misted. “You and Bruce and Alfred are the only family I have.”

Dick knew that Clark had no memory of his biological family, if he had been raised with that family at all.

“I know,” he said softly, and hugged Clark tight.

& & & & & &

Bruce pulled back the bedroom drapes, wondering if he should leave early for the city again. He saw Clark and Dick sitting on the bench by the seawall, surprised because of the weather.

Watching them, he made a decision.

& & & & & &

Clark heard the crunch of boots on snow, looking up as Bruce came into view. His expression of hesitancy pierced Clark’s heart. “Have a seat,” Clark said lightly.

Bruce sat on the other side of Dick, watching as a new freighter glided along the horizon. Sunlight glinted off the lighthouse, snow blanketing the rocky island.

Dick’s legs kicked back-and-forth. “Everything’s okay, Bruce.”

“Oh?” Bruce’s voice was laced with amusement.

“Yes.”

Bruce looked at Clark, who smiled a trifle ruefully. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“So am I.”

Bruce put his arm along the back of the bench and his gloved fingers touched Clark’s.

“I suppose you’ll have to punish me.”

Bruce’s mouth quirked. “I suppose I will.” Bruce’s eyes glittered as he looked at Clark, who felt a flutter in his groin and smiled.

Dick grinned happily between them.

& & & & & &

When all three went inside, Alfred had a piping-hot breakfast waiting. 


	15. Backwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal and Steve wind up in the middle of diplomatic maneuvering.

_"Diplomacy is sarcasm wrapped in pretty, glittering ribbons."_

  


**H.L. Mackeral  
Columnist for   
_The Daily Planet_   
1920 C.E.**

"Twelve o’clock!”

Steve threw himself behind a large boulder at Hal’s warning. He scrambled up into a crouch, looking over at Hal hidden behind another boulder.

Laser blasts burst in a flurry of noise and light, Steve wincing as one came too close.

The rose-pink sky and light-blue trees and grass were a beautiful backdrop to the deadly confrontation. At least the diplomatic party was safe several yards back…for now.

“Steve,” Hal hissed. “The Virillion Maneuver.”

“No!” Steve shook his head vigorously. “Are you crazy?”

A flash of white teeth. “Probably.” He checked his blaster. “But what choice do we have?”

Steve swore but checked his blaster, too. Close to a full charge.

“Let’s do this,” Hal said. “Count of three.” Hal’s eyes grew steely. “One…”

“…two…”

_“…three!”_

Steve laid out a volley of blasts while Hal screamed like a banshee, firing and running toward their attackers. Steve kept firing, terrified that he would see his lover fall, but the attackers were so shocked by Hal’s brazenness that they stopped firing for a space of seconds. 

Just enough time for Hal to get the drop on them, Steve running to back him up.

The quartet lay sprawled unconscious on the blue ground as the Terrans bound them.

“Well, I’m sure the Ambassador will be happy,” Hal said.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve ground out.

Hal wisely said nothing.

Steve frowned as he took a closer look at the captives. “Are these….Kadorans?”

“They could be.” Hal nudged one with his foot. “Kadorans’ skin colors are light-blue, dark-blue, reddish, and pale yellow. We’ve got both shades of blue here, and their hair are in ponytails, just as Kadoran Warriors wear them.”

“White hair, too.”

Hal nodded. “The only other hair color in their genetics is green, and it’s pretty rare.”

Steve riffled through their pockets. “A little heating up of the Cold War, or space pirates?”

“Intel will find out,” Hal said confidently.

“Let’s bring ‘em in.”

& & & & & &

Hal emerged from the shower, fresh and gleaming, a towel around his waist. He rubbed his hair dry with another towel, pleased at the luxurious accommodations for him and Steve here on Altair VI. Iris West had insisted, her diplomatic skills more than up to the task.

Hal felt energetic, remnants of the adrenaline rush from the afternoon. He hoped that Steve wasn’t still mad at him. He liked his Stevie happy, not angry.

Steve looked up from the bed, dressed in his uniform pants but shirtless. Sapphire eyes sparked with lust as he stood and whipped Hal’s towel off.

“Mmm, Stevie, we have to get ready for the reception.” Hal’s green eyes danced.

“Screw the reception.”

Hal grinned as he was pushed onto the bed, Steve kissing his neck, shoulders, and chest as his body began to press down on Hal’s, his movements nearly frantic.

Hal understood, and let his blond take the lead, pulling Steve’s pants down.

Steve’s growls of passion ignited Hal, who thrust his hips up. His hair was grabbed and his mouth almost brutally taken, Steve grinding their cocks together as Hal bit his shoulder, wild thrusts bringing them to climax as hot seed spilled between them and Hal groaned.

Steve lay on top of Hal with a near-sob, clutching his shoulder, and Hal gently kissed him.

& & & & & &

Steve nodded to the waiter, taking a glass of Jovaran applewine, wishing he could find a stash of Saurian brandy. He was still on edge from the afternoon’s battle, frantic sex with Hal taking some of that edge off but not quite.

He disliked the idea of Kadoran probing missions. Piracy was bad enough, but a Government-sanctioned military probe spelled trouble. 

He drank the applewine, the sweet taste calming his stomach. He drifted over to where Iris was speaking with a purple-skinned Babylonian, the man’s rich, deep purple hair shimmering under the lights of the ballroom. Amethyst rings sparkled on his fingers.

The entire room sparkled from the chandeliers to the ambassadorial finery and ribbons and medals on Steve and Hal’s uniforms.

“The Guardians of Oa consider this galaxy a backwater.”

“And how do you know?” asked a rotound Aldebaran, his plate laden with shellfish as he drank his people’s bluewine.

“Tales have been told of other galaxies under the protection of the Green Lantern Corps.”

“Wouldn’t a backwater need extra protection?” asked a slim Lavallan woman, her long, silvery-blue tresses flowing down her back and nearly touching the floor. Her light-blue face was dominated by enormous violet eyes, and her voice held a musical quality.

“Word is that the Guardians are put off by our primitive stage of development,” the Babylonian explained.

“Primitive?” snorted the Aldebaran.

“Of course.” The Babylonian waved his jeweled hand. “War, slavery, poverty…”

This time the Aldebaran burst out laughing. “Poverty! My friend, most of the planets of the Empire eliminated such a thing long ago. Slavery is the foundation of their prosperity. As for war, show me a species that doesn’t make war and I’ll show you either a conquered or extinct one.”

“I disagree,” trilled the Lavallan. “Species reaching a higher plane of existence have no need of war.”

The Aldebaran laughed. “My dear Ilyssa, if a being has a pulse, the motivation for war is there: jealousy, greed, ambition…all baser instincts but a fact of existence. Idealistic castles-in-the-clouds are nice, airy confections, but have little bearing on biological facts.”

“Perhaps,” Ilyssa said, drinking her applewine.

Steve saw Hal nearby, drinking a glass filled with shimmering red wine. Hal loved to play the party boy but Steve knew how sharp and intuitive he was, picking up things that people did not think he heard while he partied hearty.

Hal always said it was a useful skill, winking as he said it.

Iris spoke up. “Perhaps the Guardians are simply waiting for us to gain some enlightenment before affording us protection, though I would say primitives need more protection.”

“You were on a mission to the Collective, correct?” asked the Babylonian.

“True, Arok. Happily it appears…at least for now…that the Collective are uninterested in invasion, which is fortunate for us. They’re a shadowy race, hard to pin down, but they wield great power. Their technology would probably kick our collective derrieres.”

The diplomats chuckled. The Aldebaran saw Steve. “Major Trevor! Congratulations to you and Major Jordan for today’s good work.”

Steve bowed slightly. “Thank you, Ambassador.”

“What’s your opinion, Major? On the Collective, the Guardians?”

“I agree with Ambassador West on the Collective. They’re dangerous, especially as we know so little about them, but what technology we have studied makes us fortunate that they seem satisfied with peace right now.”

“I wonder why that is?”

“There could be an internal struggle going on right now.” Iris sipped her applewine. “I got a sense of that, but couldn’t pin anything down.”

“Interesting,” Arok said. “That could explain a great deal.”

“Let’s hope any internal struggles last a good, long time.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement all around.

“I wonder if a Green Lantern will ever be assigned to our sector?” Ilyssa asked.

“We’re not even sure if they exist!” the Aldebaran scoffed.

“I’m betting they do,” Steve said. “Some interstellar travelers have claimed to have seen Green Lanterns,”

“UFO sightings?”

“Well, Ambassador, once upon a time ships as we travel in were considered UFOs.”

“Very true, Major,” Ilyssa nodded.

“I’d say whomever the Green Lanterns choose to care for this sector, he or she would be courageous, of good character, and be smart as a whip.” 

Iris laughed. “Good character listing, Major.”

Steve smiled as he winked at Hal, who smiled as he was drawn into conversation with the Rigellian ambassador.

“I heard there’s an Abolitionist movement in your world,” said the Aldebaran to Arok.

The Babylonian nodded. “Nascent, but there.”

“What is being done to suppress it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

“That’s right.” Arok put his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and took a fresh one. “Why bother, Frad? They’re harmless.”

Frad frowned. “I disagree. Abolitionists can cause trouble.”

“They squawk but what of it? They can’t change anything.”

“How very liberal of you, Arok,” said Ilyssa with a smile.

“Well, you always have people willing to stir the pot.”

“Pot-stirrers have changed history before.” Frad finished his drink.

“True, my friend, but with slavery the bedrock of the Empire, the odds are against such idealists.”

“We should mark this date,” Ilyssa suggested. “See if ten years from now, a movement has taken hold on any planets within the Empire.”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve said.

& & & & & &

Later that evening, Iris approached Hal and Steve.

“Good work this afternoon, gentlemen.”

“All in a day’s work,” Hal said.

Iris laughed. “Modesty becomes you, Major.” Her expression grew serious. “We are in need of excellent pilots to patrol the Outer Rim.” She cocked her head. “What’s wrong, Steve?”

“I…it’s just that I’m scheduled to test the XJ-1941 this fall.”

“And so you shall.” Iris smiled at Steve’s puzzled look. “I hear it’s very prestigious for you to test that plane, Steve. That’s why I only requested you for a six-month diplomatic assignment.”

“Six months?!”

Iris laughed. “Yes, six months. You and Hal will be given leave for a month after the assignment, then you’ll report for your test.”

Steve and Hal exchanged happy smiles. A whole month’s leave! Well, maybe they could survive six months of diplomatic receptions.

That night they celebrated in private.


	16. Kiss Of The Whip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is punished.

_How sweet,  
The kiss of the whip,  
In a loving Master’s  
Hand._

  


**Jewel  
King Jolan’s _Ja’Zel_   
"The Jewel In The Crown"   
1606 C.E.**

“Punish me, Master.”

Bruce grinned as he saw that his luscious slave was wearing very little, just a filmy garment that barely covered anything at all.

They could play this game, having talked quietly about their argument…

& & & & & &

 _“So, now that we’ve both admitted wrongdoing and apologized, what next?” Bruce asked. He had been impressed by Clark’s steely resolve, though refrained from saying so._

_Clark considered. “Would you promise to listen to me better about certain things, and I promise to understand that yours is the last word?”_

_“I can live with that.”_

_Clark smiled like sunshine, and Bruce’s heart was happy._

& & & & & &

“You deserve punishment,” Bruce said haughtily as Clark drew closer, mischief in his blue eyes.

Late afternoon sunlight slanted in through the bedroom windows. Bruce was fully dressed in dark slacks and turtleneck sweater, his gaze running over Clark’s body.

Clark pressed close, wrapping his leg around Bruce’s. He whispered in his ear, “Use the whip.”

A little jolt went through Bruce. “I…”

“Please.” Clark nibbled Bruce’s ear.

“Mmm, my ka _'tare.”_

Clark grinned, slipping away to kneel on the bed, discarding his garment. Bruce licked his lips, then went to the bottom dresser drawer. He pulled out a long, thin box.

Their ‘toys’ were kept in a bigger box in Bruce’s massive walk-in closet, but this whip was kept separately. Bruce opened the lid and lifted it out.

Clark’s eyes followed the movement of the whip as Bruce uncoiled it. It was delicate with a gold handle, tiny feathery ends whispering as they were snapped.

A pleasure whip lived up to its name, only strong enough to elicit shivers of pleasure, not debilitating pain. No flesh torn, just a little pink, and in loving hands could be a powerful aphrodisiac.

Still…

“Clark, I…”

Pure love shone in Clark’s eyes. “I want this, Bruce. It’ll help me deal with that other time.”

Oh, yes, that other time.

The time in which Edmund Caldwell and his sniggering grandson had watched as Clark had been severely whipped for the crime of touching that brat without permission, because Clark had not been able to bear witnessing one of the Caldwell slaves, sweet little Melody, being beaten by said brat.

Bruce had forced himself to watch every lash. The law was quite explicit: Edmund had been well within his rights, but Bruce had hated every second.

“You’re certain?”

Clark nodded.

Bruce grasped the handle a little tighter, then approached the bed.

“Assume the position.”

Clark smiled as he turned, still kneeling, and raised his arms. Chains rattled as Bruce attached the metal to Clark’s manacles and looped the lengths through hooks in the ceiling. He tightened the links, whispering, “All right?”

Clark nodded, rising up to hang suspended as Bruce gave one final pull on the chains. Clark’s legs and knees rested on the bed, his buttocks off his haunches as his skin rippled in the sunlight. Except for very faint scars from the Caldwell whipping, his skin was unmarred.

Bruce allowed himself to drink in the sight of the smooth, taut flesh. His hands caressed Clark’s buttocks, kissing the small of his back as his slave shuddered.

“Be ready, ka _'tare.”_

Bruce stood a few feet back, then flicked the whip.

It touched Clark’s left shoulderblade, Clark twitching at the mild sting.

The next lash was on his right shoulderblade, and he whimpered as his buttocks were stung. He squirmed as another blow landed in the same place, Bruce crooning, “My beautiful slut, you shall be punished until you beg for mercy.”

“Master…” 

“That’s right, my beautiful slave.” The whip landed on the small of Clark’s back, his body shivering. Bruce smirked, “You _shall_ open yourself to me.” He stepped to the bed, the feathery ends of the whip draping between lush buttocks, sliding up and down before he removed them. He placed his hands on Clark’s hips and let his breath tickle his slave’s ear. “Spread your legs _now.”_

Clark obeyed instantly, trembling slightly as Bruce slid his arms around his chest, his fingers lightly pinching ready nipples. Clark gasped and squirmed.

Bruce’s shirt rasped against Clark’s bare skin, then his pants brushed against bare buttocks. Bruce laved his tongue over a shoulder.

“Mmm, your sweet self tastes delicious.”

Clark tilted his head back, his hair brushing against Bruce’s cheek.

“Frisky, my beauty.” Bruce nipped the back of Clark’s neck. “I intend to taste all of you, _have_ all of you.” Bruce tweaked Clark’s nipples, one hand sliding down his stomach.

Bruce stepped back, unzipped his pants, then picked up the jar from the nightstand and prepared Clark, who shivered, and then pressed his cock to the cleft of Clark’s ass. He pushed in, full and hot and demanding…

Clark’s body writhed in the chains, little whimpers escaping his throat as Bruce thrust in and out, one hand on a nipple and the other teasing his cock.

“Mmm, delicious, so _hot_ and _tight_. I welcome you, my beauty, as you welcome me into your body.”

“M…Master…”

“Mmm, yes, _beg_ me, my sweet.”

Bruce’s body throbbed as the silken tightness caressed his cock. He watched as he disappeared in and out of his slave’s body.

Stars pinwheeled behind Bruce’s eyes as with one, final thrust, he was in ecstasy, Clark crying out, his cock spewing over his Master’s hand, seed spilling down his thighs.

Clark hung limply in his bonds, Bruce wrapped around him. 

“Mmm,” Bruce said, nipping at Clark’s shoulder, “you should rebel more often, love.”

Clark laughed, wiggling back against Bruce. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Hr shivered as the feathery whip ends touched his nipples. “I am sorry, Master.”

Bruce nuzzled his neck. “So am I.” He sighed, his breath tickling Clark’s ear. “We both must try to do better in the future.”

“We can, Bruce. I know we can.”

Bruce rested his head on Clark’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Clark closed his eyes. “I do, too, Bruce. I love you so much.”

Bruce unchained Clark and gently lowered him to the bed, chains rattling as Bruce kissed his neck, Clark wrapping his limbs around his lover. 

 

 

.


	17. Dimming Of The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick’s first anniversary of his arrival into the Wayne Household approaches.

_Under the Big Top,  
There was joy.  
From the Big Top,  
Came the boy._

_Broken and lost,  
From one night,  
A terrible loss,  
From evil’s blight._

_Time passed,  
And he was bright,  
Joy and laughter,  
Love and light._

_And then came  
Dimming sorrow,  
As the year turned  
To the morrow._

_Would the boy  
Be once more bright?  
Or forever lost  
In blood’s ruby light?_

  


**The Freedom Chronicles  
2363 C.E.**

Dick’s first anniversary of his arrival into the Household was coming up. Bruce was happy that this bright little boy was in his life, but the reason Dick had come to him was because of tragedy. Bruce understood that well.

Clark and Alfred helped him keep Dick busy, but Bruce could see the dimming of Dick’s light the closer it came to the anniversary of his parents’ deaths.

Yes, he understood very well.

& & & & & &

Dick bit his lip as Dr. Harold Allston set his sprained ankle. The man’s salt-and-pepper hair gleamed in the morning sunlight as he examined his handiwork. He was as tall as Bruce and broad-shouldered like him, his hands large but gentle.

“Be careful climbing trees, young man.”

Dick smiled wanly. “I will, Doctor.”

Bruce came into the living room. “How is he, Doctor?”

“He’ll live.” Harold frowned. “You’re looking a little peaked, son.”

“I’m fine,” Dick said quickly.

“Still, I’d better take a sample of skin and blood. You’ve got some mottling here on your arm, and we have to keep track of your blood condition.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s your Prize, Bruce?”

“Fine, except for the usual.”

“And Alfred?”

“Excellent health.”

“Good. I’d like to do a quick examination of them both while I’m here.”

“Certainly.”

Harold took the samples, Dick stoic throughout it all, and then the doctor went over to Bruce.

“As always, I’ll run these tests personally.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Harold smiled and patted Bruce’s shoulder. “Little enough I can do for my old med school roommate’s son.”

“You were far more than that, Dr. Allston.”

Harold grinned. “Thomas and Martha and I could paint the town red in those days, that’s for sure.”

Bruce smiled. “I’ll tell Alfred and my katare to go to their rooms and wait for you.”

Harold nodded.

& & & & & &

“How do you feel, son?”

Clark sighed. “Okay, besides the usual.”

“Have your attacks become more severe or frequent?”

Clark buttoned his shirt. “Once in awhile, but not on a regular basis.”

“Hmm.” Harold stored the vial of Clark’s blood in his doctor’s bag. “Well, unfortunately, that’s the nature of Wertham’s Disease. At least the quinium seems to be working, though I expect it’s a little rough after you receive your weekly shot.”

“Yes, and about a day before.”

“Mmm.” Harold checked his PDA for his next appointment. The Caldwell mansion. _Let’s hope there aren’t any half-dead slaves laying around this time._ “All right, you seem fairly healthy, young man. Keeping the Prince satisfied?” 

Clark laughed. “Yes, I’ve had no complaints.”

“Excellent.” After examination, Harold could see why Bruce had no complaints. “If you do have any unusual problems, be sure to tell Bruce. He wouldn’t appreciate you keeping things like that from him.”

Clark nodded.

“Good. Now go get some sunshine.”

Clark smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’m off to see Alfred.”

Harold walked to the butler’s room. “Hello, Alfred.”

“Hello, Doctor.”

“How are you?”

“Quite chipper.”

“Excellent.”

Harold examined the butler, pleased at his findings. As he wrapped things up he asked, “So, how is everyone getting along? It’s been nearly a year since Richard joined.”

“Yes, and he’s brightened things up considerably around here, just as the Master’s Prize does.”

“Yes, the Manor does seem like a sunnier place,” Harold laughed.

Alfred smiled. “Quite so.”

”And the Prize…he keeps Bruce satisfied?”

“Very much so.”

“And have you observed any more severe or frequent symptoms from him?”

“No.” A worried look crossed Alfred’s face. “Has something changed?”

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.” Harold packed away his instruments in his bag. He liked the traditional doctor’s bag, a time-honored symbol of his profession. “Wertham’s Disease is insidious. It can lull you into thinking it’s not so bad, and then, _wham!_ it’ll hit you worse than ever.”

“I shall certainly keep a closer eye on the Master’s Prize.” 

“And he’s certainly a Prize.”

Alfred smiled. “Oh, yes. Master Bruce chose well in many ways.”

Harold grinned. “Well, you’re healthy as a horse, Alfred.”

“Should I partake of oats?”

Harold laughed. “You can eat bran cereal, how’s that?”

“Very good, sir.”

& & & & & &

Everyone had gotten a clean bill of health, himself included, for which Bruce was grateful.

He looked out the library window and saw Dick leaning his elbows on the seawall. Despite being a perpetual motion machine, Dick could remain still.

Bruce was just worried that there was a sad reason for this lack of activity.

He put on a jacket and went outside, quietly walking across the lawn. Reaching the seawall, he put a hand on Dick’s shoulder.

After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Sea’s restless today.”

Dick nodded. His usual bounce and sparkle was subdued.

Bruce gently squeezed. “It’s tough, that first year anniversary.” He could feel the boy’s muscles tense. “And it’ll always bring back the memories, every year.” Bruce watched a steamer chug by, navigating the choppy water. “It’s okay to feel angry, sad, even resentful.”

“Do you?”

“Every time I think of the way I was robbed of my time with them. I know people say that you should ‘get over it’, but they aren’t the ones grieving.”

“Are you still grieving?”

“Yes.” Bruce felt a small arm slip around his waist. “It doesn’t interfere with my daily life, and I can laugh and have a good time with you and Alfred and Clark, but it’s what drives me.”

“At night.”

Bruce nodded. “It helps.”

Dick squeezed. “I know.” A very small voice said, “It helps me, too.”

Bruce pulled Dick close and they watched the seagulls wheel around the gray sky.

& & & & & &

“Sir, Dr. Allston is here to see you.”

Bruce looked up from the contract he was reading in the library. “Send him in, please.”

Alfred nodded and left, Bruce smiling slightly. Protocol demanded that he bow in this instance, but it was a sign of their ease with each other that in this case, Bruce did not expect it and Alfred did not think to be so formal in private.

Bruce rose as Harold entered, Alfred closing the door to give them privacy.

“Hello, Doctor. What brings you back so soon?” He indicated that Harold should take the chair in front of the desk. A worried thought hit as he sat down. “Is everyone all right?”

Harold sat and looked exasperated and perhaps…disapproving?

“You know, it’s a good thing that I run these tests personally instead of handing them off to a lab tech.” Harold shook his head as he crossed his legs. “I know you’re the Prince of Gotham and used to doing what you want, but do you really want to go up against the Govs? Risk your family legacy?” At Bruce’s astonished look Harold continued, “There is a Hunt Decree against your slave.”

“Wha…?”

“Is it really a good idea to keep a Squire who is Roma?”


	18. Green Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green Arrow and Black Canary’s routine mission turns into something more.

_"The seedier brothels are hotbeds of illegal activity."_

  


**Harvey Dent  
Gotham City   
District Attorney   
22—C.E.**

Green Arrow nodded to the Canary, who smiled a predatory smile. She opened her mouth and let her Cry pierce through the shabby brownstone from her perch on the next building’s roof.

Moans and cries sounded, and half-dressed men stumbled out of the side and back doors, running into the night. Black Canary swooped in, followed by Green Arrow.

They kicked open doors, finding slaves chained to the beds. They continued looking for the brothel owner, Green Arrow kicking in a door at the far end of the hall on the second floor.

“Stop right there.”

Green Arrow’s eyebrows rose as he stared at an arrow pointed at his chest.

The bow-wielder was a boy about Dick’s age, a shock of red hair shading hard green eyes. Light glinted off copper slave bracelets.

“Whoa, hold off, kid. I’m here to take in your thieving owner.”

The arrow remained steady. “Broward’s long gone.”

“Then we’ll have the slaves he stole returned right away.” Green Arrow tried to soothe the boy. “Who’s your owner?”

“Broward.” The voice was icy. “My previous owner died and he took me.”

“Okay.” _The kid’ll go on the block_. “You can put the bow-and-arrow down, kid.” He put command into his voice, and the boy slowly obeyed. “That’s a nice bow you’ve got there.”

“My former owner gave it to me.” He sighed. “I suppose it’ll be taken away.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” 

“No sign of that pig…”

Black Canary paused in the doorway. The redhead’s eyes widened.

“The pig’s fled the sty, Pretty Bird. We can get the slaves ready for transport.”

“And what’s your name, boy-o?” Black Canary asked.

“Roy.”

“Well, Roy, make yourself useful. Come help us unchain the slaves.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Green Arrow watched in amusement as Roy meekly followed his partner.

_Dinah always reels ‘em in, no matter what age._

& & & & & &

It was quiet in the solarium of Queens’ Castle, weak winter sunlight streaming in through the glass windows. Carefully-tended flowers and plants bloomed in colorful profusion.

On one of the wrought-iron benches sat the Lord of the Castle. Ollie liked the beauty of this place, the only sound that of the trickling of the water fountain in the corner.

Dinah appeared, settling down beside him. She put her arm around him. A minute later, she spoke.

“What’s troubling you, m’lord?”

He smiled. “I’m thinking, m’lady.”

“Oh ho! Dangerous.”

He smiled again, then sobered as he said, “I keep thinking of that boy.”

She frowned for a second, then comprehension dawned. “You mean Roy?”

He nodded. “The Commissioner says he’s going on the block since they confiscated him from Broward.”

Sadness crossed Dinah’s face. “Unfortunate.”

Ollie looked at her. “What if we bought him?”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

Dinah looked skeptical, then quickly warmed to the idea. “Melody could use a playmate, and the boy seemed intelligent. We could give him a far better life than some brothel owner.” Her mouth twisted. “He’s underlegal and supposed to be used as a house slave instead of as a bedslave, but somehow I doubt that a man who stole slaves to stock his whorehouse would observe such…niceties.”

Ollie felt slightly nauseous. “Yeah.” He slipped an arm around his lady’s waist. “So, you’re with me on this?”

Dinah smiled. “Right with you, love!”

Ollie drew her into a hug.


	19. Boy Gypsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wayne Household tries to process the new and dangerous revelation.

The Roma  
Have always held  
Their secrets  
Close.

  


**Shayera Quinzell  
"Gypsy Nights"   
1926 C.E.**

_“What?!”_

Harold was impressed. Either Bruce hadn’t known, or he was a helluva actor.

“The DNA sample I took from your Squire shows Roma ancestry.” He took out a datapad from his bag and handed it to a numb Bruce. “It’s all there, under my private lock. I’d say that the ‘medicine’ he takes once a year is a masking agent for his Secret. The Roma were rumored to have come up with a potion that allowed them to live undetected among us.” He smiled. “It’s not just a rumor.”

Bruce sat down heavily, staring at the stark figures on the datapad.

“After your parents were killed, I went to Europe for awhile, if you remember. I studied amongst the Roma, though of course they went under another name. I saved the life of one of their most respected chieftains. He told me their Secret, knowing that the Roma needed allies on the outside to survive.” Harold studied Bruce’s expression. “You had no idea.” 

“No.”

Harold considered this admission. “You have to protect yourself, Bruce. The punishment for harboring those under a Hunt Decree is pretty severe: confiscation of property, prison…”

“I know.”

“Then you’d better sell this boy quickly.”

Stricken, Bruce said, “I can’t.”

“You’d better. You’re jeopardizing your other slaves, as they’ll be among the property confiscated. Alfred’s a survivor, but what of your Prize? With his illness, he wouldn’t last long unless given the excellent care you give him. Even if he was taken care of, how long do you think he’d last as the star attraction of a brothel or some sadist like Edmund Caldwell?” He saw Bruce’s shudder. “What if this kid has been lying to you all this time?”

“Considering death is his alternative, I can’t blame him.” Bruce’s voiced was strained.

“You’d better find out before you decide what to do.”

As if on cue, the boy in question limped by the library window.

“I can’t sell him.”

Harold looked at the painting of Thomas and Martha. “You may have no choice.”

Looking sick, Bruce went to the window. “Richard! Come here, please.”

The little boy entered through the French doors, fresh as morning sunshine. He smiled at Harold. “Hello, Doctor.” He pointed to his ankle. “Doin’ good.”

Harold acknowledged the smile. _He seems truly without guile, but who knows for sure?_

“Sit on the couch, please.” Bruce paced back and forth, and the boy began to look worried. Bruce stopped in front of him. “Dr. Allston has…discovered something…in his tests.”

The child darted a look at Harold. He looked afraid, but why wouldn’t he? He thought that he was truly sick…

“Dick…” Bruce dropped to a knee in front of him and grasped the boy’s arms “…your DNA tested as Roma.”

Shock crossed the boy’s face.

_Either he’s one helluva actor, or…_

“Wh… _What?”_

“That’s right.” Bruce’s voice was very gentle. “Your shot is a masking agent, not for any illness but to conceal your ethnicity.”

Fear slammed into Dick. “A Roma is under…a Hunt Decree!” His face drained to a ghastly white. “If the Government knows, they’ll…!”

Bruce gripped his arms harder. “No one knows.”

_Not quite true, Bruce._

Dick glanced his way, but looked with wide eyes at his Master. “Master Bruce, you’ll have to sell me! If you’re caught, you and Cl…your Prize and Alfred will be in terrible danger!” The boy began to sob. “You’ll have to send me away!”

“No!” Bruce shook him. “I am not selling you. _Ever!”_

He gathered the sobbing child in his arms, caressing his hair and back and soothing him with comfortable words.

The child stiffened. “A slave under a Hunt Decree… _the punishment is almost as bad as for a runaway!”_ His voice rose to near-hysteria.

 _“Listen to me!”_ Bruce whispered fiercely into Dick’s ear, “I would kill you myself before I’d let them do that to you, do you understand?”

Dick was shaking, his grip white-knuckled as he clung to Bruce, but he managed to nod. Bruce rocked him back-and-forth, murmuring words of comfort while still rubbing his back, holding on tightly.

Finally he set the boy back against the couch, giving him a handkerchief to wipe his red eyes. Bruce looked at Harold.

“I know you have to report this…”

Harold made a decision. “No, I don’t.” He looked at the devastated child. “I’ll keep your Secret, not only because Thomas and Martha were my dearest friends, but because I consider you a friend, too.” _And that boy wasn’t lying._

“Thank you.”

Harold stood. “You don’t have to rely on that masking agent anymore. It was diluted, anyway. I know what the Roma use.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Doctor. As it is, you’re in danger of losing your license and worse.”

“You aren’t. I’m volunteering.”

Bruce smiled.

“I’ll see myself out. I’ll deliver the masking agent in a few days.”

& & & & & &

As soon as Harold had gone, Dick grabbed Bruce’s arm. “Master…you could lose everything…”

Bruce smiled gently. “I have many more secrets, my Little Bird.” Dick smiled through his tears. “What’s one more?” He kissed Dick’s hair. “Now, rest a moment. I’ll get Clark and Alfred.”

Bruce began to rise and Dick squeezed his arm. “I swear, Bruce, I never knew.”

“I know.”

& & & & & &

Entering the library, Clark and Alfred were very concerned as they saw how upset Dick was, huddled on the couch.

“Child, what’s wrong?” Alfred asked, going to sit beside him. Clark sat on his other side, putting his arm around Dick’s shoulders.

“I…”

Bruce held up a hand. “Dr. Allston came by. Dick is not ill. His shot is a masking agent to conceal the fact that he is…Roma.”

Shock, then fear crossed two faces.

“Master Bruce…” Alfred choked out.

“I know.” Bruce took a deep breath. “I’m not selling Dick.”

“Of course not!” Clark exclaimed, squeezing Dick’s shoulders.

“We all know the risks, but it’s unthinkable, sir.” Alfred looked quite fierce.

Bruce smiled. “It’s settled, then.” As Dick opened his mouth to protest, Bruce said, “Dick, you’re among family. You stay.”

Dick nodded, tears in his eyes.

As Clark and Alfred hugged their boy, Bruce thought grimly, _I need a word with Elias Haly._


	20. Queens' Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy is welcomed to Queens’ Castle.

_Upon the hill  
The castle shone,  
Drawing in  
The boy alone._

_In peasant rags  
He carried bow  
To seek his fortune,  
Reap and sow._

_He would serve  
The Queen and King,  
A brave heart  
Would he bring._

_No more would he  
Search and roam,  
He had found  
His shining home._

  


**Selina Queen  
"Castle Of The Queen"   
2006 C.E. ******

Roy tried to hide his shock at the grandeur of Queens’ Castle. The large mansion had been built centuries ago, white pillars framing the large double doors of the entrance, white shutters a pleasing contrast to the brick walls.

The grounds were impeccably maintained as befit a grand estate: trees of oak, elm and maple were interspersed with blue spruce and evergreen. The flowers created a riot of color under the late winter sky.

Roy clutched his bow, a quiver of arrows on his back, the only possessions he had that were worth keeping. A small carryall contained a few shabby shirts and pairs of pants, underwear, a comb, and toothbrush.

“Welcome to Queens’ Castle,” Ollie said jovially, pride in the sweep of his arm. Dinah smiled and Roy felt a little less anxious. 

The door opened and a stately, silver-haired butler said, “Welcome home, Master Oliver, Mistress Dinah.”

“Thank you, William.”

Inside the massive foyer decorated with suits of armor and an enormous crystal chandelier, waited a young girl that Roy guessed to be about his age, maybe a little younger. Her hair was dark blond and her brown eyes were warm and welcoming. Her slave bracelets sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“This is Melody, Squire to Mistress Dinah and myself,” Ollie explained. “You will now also serve us in that capacity. Melody, this is Roy. Show him to his room, please.”

Melody nodded and Roy followed her up the grand staircase and down an endless hall.

“This is your room.”

Roy walked into a good-sized room with a large bed, dresser, rocking chair and nightstand. The walls were painted light-blue, the curtains a deep sapphire hue. Everything was fresh and clean, a far cry from his last accommodations.

“Thanks, um, Melody.”

“Just ask if you have any questions or need anything. I’m right next door. Mistress Dinah asked that you unpack and dress in the clothes from the closet. You’ll have a proper shopping expedition soon.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll come for you in a half hour.”

After Melody left, Roy set his bag on the bed and sat down next to it, still clutching his bow.

His head was whirling. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours!

And so much had happened since the destruction of the reservation, and Brave Bow…

He swallowed and wondered how his new life would play out.

& & & & & &

Roy met the staff in the kitchen, Cook immediately declaring he needed fattening up, and he enjoyed a delicious lunch of salmon, broccoli, and whipped potatoes, and then he was given a tour of the mansion with Melody explaining his duties.

“Master Oliver and Mistress Dinah are patient and fair but do require obedience and slaves who pay attention.”

“Are they good Masters?”

“The best.” Melody’s eyes were shadowed. “I know the opposite.”

Roy didn’t ask further but filed the information away.

“You’ll get plenty of exercise and even free time after finishing your duties. Can you read?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The library is open to all slaves. You can borrow my own books, too, if you want.”

Roy was pleased to hear that. “Computer access?”

“You’ll receive your own login and password, known only to you and the Master and Mistress.”

_This all sounds too good to be true._

& & & & & &

As the days passed, Roy learned more about his new owners. They were well-respected by the slaves, some of whom had been with the family since birth or for many years.

He saw Ollie and Dinah for brief periods, then was detailed to serve them tea and scones one afternoon in the solarium.

“So, Roy, are you settling in?” asked Ollie.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.”

Dinah asked, “Have you any questions?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Well, feel free to ask us or any member of the staff.” Dinah sipped her tea. “Oh, and we’ll be shopping for your wardrobe tomorrow.”

& & & & & &

The shopping expedition went well, Dinah easy to be around. At lunch she asked, “Where did you get that magnificent bow and arrow?”

Roy’s expression grew somber. “My first owner was Brave Bow. I was raised on the Navajo reservation in Arizona. He gave them to me.”

When he said nothing further, Dinah asked, “So you’re skilled in archery?”

“I do all right,” Roy answered sullenly. 

Dinah seemed unoffended. She sipped her tea, a thoughtful look on her face.

& & & & & &

“Show me what you’ve got, kid.”

Roy drew back the bow, then let the arrow fly toward the round practice target.

_Bulls-eye!_

“Impressive.”

Roy felt happiness sing through him. Archery was _good._ There was a symmetry and cleanness about it in a life both precarious and harsh.

When he practiced archery, it felt _right._

Ollie smiled.


	21. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pop Haly gives Bruce some answers.

_"One can never trust a Gypsy."_

  


**Radek Mjolnir  
Mayor of   
Czernik, Transylvania   
1897 C.E.**

Elias ‘Pop’ Haly arrived in Gotham as the trial of ‘Boss’ Tony Zucco began as February snow turned to March mud. Lord Wayne had summoned Pop to the Manor, which was just as well. He had Dick’s masking agent. It was growing close to the time when he would need it to keep him safe for another year.

Alfred ushered him into the library.

“Pop!”

Dick rushed over to him and hugged tight. He caressed the boy’s hair.

Dick smiled up at him. Fear twisted in his gut. The smile was strained, and dark circles were under the boy’s eyes. Was the child really sick?

“Have a seat, Mr. Haly.”

Pop sat in the chair in front of the antique oak desk. He pulled a vial out of his pocket. “I have Dick’s medicine here.”

Dick was sitting on the couch, looking anxious.

“I have to tell you, Mr. Haly, that your last batch was defective.” Bruce’s voice was neutral but his eyes were hard.

Pop frowned. “Whaddaya mean?”

Bruce leaned forward. “I mean that my personal physician discovered that Dick is Roma.”

The fear grew cold in the pit of his stomach. “So, I suppose you’ll be reporting me for selling you a slave under a Hunt Decree.” 

“No.” Bruce’s eyes glittered. “I’m not reporting Dick, either. However, I’d like to know why you did it.”

Pop shrugged. “I had to. I could never sell him if the truth were known.” He looked at Dick. “I couldn’t have kept you, Dickie, and I didn’t want to put you on the block. Lord Wayne came along and offered to buy you. I knew his reputation with slaves was a good one.” Pop looked back at Bruce. “I’m sorry to deceive you, Lord Wayne, but I’d do it again to keep Dickie safe.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “I appreciate your honesty.”

Pop turned to Dick. “Your mother was the Roma. She had to carry her fear with her every day. Your father knew before they committed to each other.” 

“Why didn’t they tell me?” 

“They didn’t want to add to the stress of being a slave. They were going to tell you when you got older, but…”

Sadness filled Dick’s eyes.

“Dick is under my protection, Mr. Haly. I won’t be turning him over to the Government.”

“Lord Wayne, I would never put Dick in danger.”

He could see the suspicion in the Prince, then realization that Pop had protected Dick from the beginning.

“We still have to be careful at the circus.” Pop crossed his arms. “The Government still sniffs around once in awhile.”

Bruce frowned. “Why?”

“Many circus performers in pre-Decree days were Roma. They are now still Roma but deeply undercover. The Govs try to catch the unfortunate.”

“Are they successful?”

“Once in a great while.” Pop’s teeth gleamed. “But the Roma are clever. They survived persecutions, including the Holocaust, even before the Decree.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked to Dick. Pop smiled to himself. The Prince was no fool. He had recognized Dickie’s cleverness.

“You’ll have to track down the problem with the masking agent.”

“Absolutely.” Pop frowned. “Some of the other performers at the circus could be in danger, too.”

Dick looked scared and Bruce said, “Test them immediately. If you need more of the agent, I can get some for you.”

As Pop took out his cellphone he asked, “Why are you involving yourself beyond Dickie?”

“I don’t believe in exterminating an entire race just because of who they are.”

Pop waited for the signal to go through. “Does that include Kryptonians?”

“All people.”

Pop spoke to his trusted assistant. Dick went to Bruce, who pulled the child into a hug.

Pop was very certain that he had made the right decision.

When he was finished, Dick approached. “Who are the other Roma?”

Pop ruffled his hair. “You’re a nosy one, aren’t you?’ Dick giggled. “Go back outside, Dickie. You’re always safe here.”

Dick hugged him and left, Bruce’s gaze measuring him.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“Because if he ever is exposed, they’ll torture him to find out if he knows about others before executing him.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Pop could see the determination in Bruce’s eyes. Good. He would use his considerable power to protect Dick.

& & & & & &

Pop Haly testified against Tony Zucco’s extortion. Zucco was convicted of extortion and murder, though not the murders of John and Mary Grayson. A freeman could not be convicted for killing slaves. A heavy fine was levied on him for the Graysons, and the extortion had linked him to the murder of a free shopkeeper. 

Bruce Wayne attended the trial, and his entire Household was with him, his Squire sitting between him and his Prize, the Master’s arm around the small shoulders. The butler was also close, British unflappability a calming influence on the solemn little group.

After the verdict, the group returned to the Manor, Dick slipping away.

Bruce found him by his parents’ graves, sitting silently as the birds twittered in the trees. Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s a year ago today,” Dick said softly.

“I know.”

“Does it ever get better?”

Bruce stared off into the distance. “It varies day-to-day. Some days are fine. Some aren’t.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder.

Dick was sitting cross-legged and remained still as a statue, then he unfolded gracefully and stood. His eyes were wet but he lifted his chin. 

“I’m ready to go home now.”

Bruce smiled slightly and they walked back to the Manor, Bruce’s arms around Dick’s shoulders.


	22. Screams In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares plague Roy and Melody.

_They say  
That nightmares  
Are the mind’s  
Way  
Of working  
Things out._

_I say  
They are  
Just screams  
Waiting  
To get out._

  


**Addie Cutler  
"Drive-Through Thoughts   
And Other Poems"   
2030 C.E.**

“You said you came here from somewhere else?”

Roy and Melody were sitting in the living room watching the news before dinner.

“Yes.” Melody stared at the TV.

“So this place is better?”

“By far.”

“And the latest news from Gotham concerns Batman and Robin, who successfully apprehended the Riddler.”

Roy watched footage of the Dynamic Duo flying through the air. “That is so cool.” 

“Robin’s cute!”

Roy grinned. “He is.” He watched the grace of the Boy Wonder. “I’d love to do that.”

“What, fly through the air?”

Roy laughed. “That could be fun, but I’d like to be like Green Arrow, fighting crime with arrows.”

“Maybe you’ll get to meet him. He works out of Star City with the Black Canary.”

“She’s cool, too. All that martial arts stuff and her sonic cry.” Roy winked. “I’ve met them both.”

“Keep practicing your archery. Maybe Green Arrow will need an apprentice someday.”

Roy laughed. “Yeah, right. He’s ready to start auditioning slave boys to be his new kid sidekick.”

“You’re too cynical.”

“That’s me, cynical Speedy.”

“Speedy?”

He grinned. “Brave Bow said I was the quickest he ever saw with a bow-and-arrow.”

“Brave Bow?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you someday.”

Out in the hall, Ollie listened with a thoughtful expression.

& & & & & &

“Any leisure time you have, you can spend it here at the archery field.”

“You mean in between Squire duties and lessons?”

“That’s right.” Ollie nocked his arrow. The kid had a smart mouth he had to rein in but he was also as sharp as a tack. He enjoyed the verbal sparring.

His arrow twanged to hit the target. Roy’s followed a minute later.

“You’re a natural.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.

Ollie smirked. The kid definitely had moxie.

“So, what do you think of Star City’s resident archer?”

“Green Arrow?”

“Yeah.”

_Twang!_

_Thump!_

“He’s cool. I’ve seen the tapes of him in action. He sure knows his way around a bow-and-arrow.”

_Twang!_

“Yeah, he’s an expert, all right.”

_Thump!_

“Do you think he’s looking for a sidekick?” Roy asked.

“He might be.”

Roy carefully aimed. “Well, if he ever took on sidekick, he’d pick a good one.”

_Twang!_

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, a guy like that who’s smart enough to fight crime can pick someone good. He seemed like a real straight shooter to me.”

_Thump!_

“That’s right; you’ve seen him up-close-and-personal.”

“He chose that pretty Canary as a partner, didn’t he?”

“More like she chose him,” came the wry reply.

They finished up their session and Ollie said, “Well, if Green Arrow does take on a sidekick, you’re right, he’ll choose the right one.”

Wistfully Roy nodded.

& & & & & &

 _Yellowed teeth shone in the light of the greedy flames licking at the houses._

_“You Injuns oughtta know better than to stick yer noses in where they ain’t wanted.”_

_The tall Navajo stood proudly before the ragged man. “You and your kind always demand the same things: subservience and the ability to look the other way. When you rape the land, Kragan, you despoil us all.”_

_Kragan laughed, throwing his head back. “Good one, Chief Sourpuss! Well, tell your fellow Injuns their homes are goin’ up in smoke ‘cause you ratted on us to the Govs!”_

_“The soldiers will be here and you’ll go to prison, Kragan!”_

_“Not if there ain’t no witnesses alive to tell.”_

_Gunfire blazed and the Navajo’s body jerked, then crashed to the ground._

_“Brave Bow!” Roy sobbed, running to the body. He gasped as a meaty hand grabbed his arm._

_“Oh, yeah,” Kragan leered, “I’ll get good coin for you, kid. You’ll be warmin’ someone’s wigwam fer sure.”_

_Roy screamed as Kragan pulled him close…_

& & & & & &

Roy awoke in a cold sweat, certain that the whole house had heard him.

He jumped as he heard a scream. Shaking, he realized it was coming from the next room. He leaped out of bed and ran to Melody’s room.

The girl was thrashing, sobbing, “Please don’t hurt him!”

Roy grabbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, Mel, no one’s hurting you!”

Melody jerked awake, eyes wide with tears. Shaking violently, she grabbed Roy.

“Don’t let them hurt Danny!”

“It’s okay, Melody. You’re safe here.” Roy rubbed her back. “No one’s going to hurt anyone. The Master and Mistress are good people.”

Melody finally started to calm down.

“Who’s Danny?” Roy asked softly.

Melody began to shake again. “The…the…Master Harrison’s bedslave. He was…was kind to me. He was being punished, down in the dungeon. I heard his screams…”

“Ah, Melody, sometimes men get carried away. It’s not punishment, it’s…” Roy stopped, unsure of what to say.

Melody shook her head. “I know bed screams. These were punishment screams. They were tearing…” Melody looked nauseous. “I…I never saw him again. One of the maids…she told me about the blood she and the others had to clean up…the smell...” Melody clamped her mouth shut.

Roy felt sick. He knew the face of sadism up close. “Who’s this Master Harrison?”

“The Caldwell scion.” Melody leaned close to whisper, “But Old Man Edmund is the worst.”

Roy’s blood froze in his veins. The Caldwells! He had heard two of the kitchen staff discussing them.

_“Sadists, all of ‘em. Like to do their work while a slave’s still alive, poor souls.”_

_“The old man’s the worst. He once took a red-hot poker and did a King Edward on one poor wretch. The man took days to die, agony in his every breath.”_

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I can still hear screams in the night coming from that place.”

“Well, you’re okay now,” Roy said, still feeling shaky himself.

Melody must have seen his own haunted look because she hugged him, and they both held on tight. 

Neither one noticed the door close softly.

& & & & & &

The next day, Ollie summoned Roy into the library.

“Yes, Master?” Roy stood before the oak desk.

“How does hard work set with you?”

“Pardon, Master?” Roy was puzzled.

“Does hard physical labor bother you?”

“No more than most.” Was he going to be sold to some farmer, or rented out to a construction crew?

“Can you be discreet?”

“Sir?”

“Can you keep your Master’s secrets?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” A slave who didn’t had his tongue cut out. 

“Good.” Ollie rose from behind the desk and came around to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”

A book was pushed in _(Robin Hood And His Merry Men),_ and the bookcase moved. A stone stairway was revealed, and Roy could smell musty air.

He followed his Master down the steps, gaping at the computers and other equipment, and a yellow car…!

The Black Canary appeared, a bright smile on her face.

“Welcome to the Arrow Cave, Roy.”


	23. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tests the XJ-1941 while Hal is off on a space mission.

_"Destiny is not a gentle zephyr. Sometimes it’s a freight train, and you’re tied up on the tracks."_

  


**Mack Sullivan  
"Destiny’s Call"   
2116 C.E.**

Spring turned to summer, then the leaves began to change as autumn arrived with the news of a new sidekick to Green Arrow and Black Canary by the name of Speedy. When asked about this new hero, Robin laughed and said, “The more the merrier!”

It was on a clear September day when Steve Trevor began testing the XJ-1941. As he flew out over the ocean, he thought of the final day of his leave…

& & & & & &

 _Hal stretched out lazily on his lounge chair, enjoying the sparkling Atlantic as Steve sat in the chair next to him. He handed Hal a glass of lemonade._

_“Mmm, thanks.” Steve set a full pitcher on the small table between them. “It’s been quite a leave, hasn’t it?”_

_Steve grinned. “A great one.” He stretched exaggeratedly. “I feel very satisfied.”_

_Hal laughed. “You should!”_

_Steve winked. “Never a low opinion or yourself.”_

_“Never.”_

_Steve closed his eyes. “I wish we had more time.”_

_“What, you aren’t anxious to get back into action? What about the XJ-1941?”_

_“The XJ-1941 will be there. I just like spending this time with you.”_

_“Uh, Stevie…”_

_“Relax, Hal, I’m not proposing marriage. I know what the deal is.”_

_His heart wished otherwise, but Hal Jordan wasn’t the marrying kind._

_The silence was awkward, but then melted into their usual ease. Steve was glad. He didn’t want them avoiding each other on their last day._

_“What do you think your orders will be?” he asked._

_“Who knows? Could be anywhere from the Outer Rim to more diplomatic hooha at Empire HQ.”_

_“True. You never know.”_

& & & & & &

And so Hal’s orders had come through: a mission providing escort for miners to the Galactic Outer Rim.

Steve had been uneasy at the assignment but kept his fears to himself. When he and Hal had parted, it had been with a kiss and “See you soon” on their lips.

Steve sighed. He really shouldn’t worry. Trust in Lady Fortune that Hal would make it back safely.

_Of course, easier said than done._

Steve concentrated on his test flight. The XJ-1941 was handling well so far. Data was being sent back to Edwards Air Force Base but he was on audio feed, too. Psychological studies had shown that pilots preferred human contact instead of simply automatons for company. The days of sending pilots out with only computers except on certain deep space missions had ended after too many fliers had developed problems.

Steve eyed his control panel. Every indicator showed that all systems were fine.

He was looking forward to visiting Wayne Manor for Halloween Week next month. It was becoming a tradition to get an invitation now. This would be the third year in a row.

Bruce Wayne was an interesting man. He was one of the wealthiest men on the planet (some said he was No. 1), and his home reflected that. From what Steve had read, Bruce could be a corporate shark when necessary, but was fair in his business dealings.

His father had always said you could tell a man’s character by the way he treated his slaves. Steve always liked to observe the wealthy and powerful and how they treated those below them, and slaves were certainly at the bottom of the social ladder.

Bruce was the Lord of the Manor and Prince of Gotham, but Alfred was the real power behind the throne. 

Dick was a charming sprite, obedient but a cheerful addition to the Household. Vivacious and loving, Dick made everyone happier around him.

And Clark?

Steve suspected there was more than the usual Master/slave devotion. If there was, no doubt they would keep it discreet, considering the potential consequences.

Steve thought it charming. It made him hope a little for humanity if someone like Bruce could fall in love with his slave.

Steve kept his eye on the fuel indicator. Good. She was burning the right amount. No leaking or other problems. If all went well, the Earth Division of Starfleet would have a new jet/spaceship.

His thoughts returned to Bruce even while a part of his mind kept its careful watch.

Bruce had subtly put out his Abolitionist views, starting with the Lois Lane interview in _The Daily Planet_ , but there had been other lines, possibly considered throwaways, but Bruce made it so smooth and charming, people didn’t realize exactly what he was saying…but the seed had been planted.

Suddenly, a red light began blinking. Steve swore as he snapped, “Edwards, my engine is malfunctioning. Major failure.” He grimaced as only static answered him. “Great. Now communications are out!” He swiftly went through back-up systems, but only half of the procedures worked.

The jet began a nosedive. Steve checked his parachute, then lifted the cockpit bubble. Just hit Eject and all would be well for him, if not the jet.

Steve hit the button.

“I don’t fuckin’ believe this!”

He struggled to get out of the seat as the Eject mechanism failed.

The jet’s speed at plummeting was faster than anyone had anticipated.

The XJ-1941 crashed into the sea.

& & & & & &

At the moment of the crash, word came to the Earth Division of Starfleet Command that Major Hal Jordan was missing in action in the Galactic Outer Rim. 


	24. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wishes to accelerate his involvement in the Abolitionist Movement.

_"We need stronger Slave Protection Laws. Too many Masters abuse and torture their slaves."_

  


**Martha Kent  
The National Aboltionist Society   
2248 C.E.**

Bruce walked through Wayne Park. It was a beautiful day and he liked to be out in it, using his meeting at a building on the other side of the park as the perfect excuse.

Autumn was always a special time of year. There were three birthdays to celebrate, and a special anniversary to observe: Clark coming into his life. And the leaves were beautiful and the weather was gorgeous, and he almost felt like whistling…

The smacking sound of leather on skin startled him, and he rounded a bend in the path to see a man beating another one on the ground, noticing the slave bracelets on the victim’s wrists as his own hands curled into fists.

“Sir, do you really think this is necessary?”

The man turned, brown eyes flashing. “Fuck off, buddy!”

Bruce smiled while inwardly gritting his teeth. “Well, now, a well-dressed businessman such as yourself must be up on all the latest trends.” 

The man frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Surely you’ve heard that it’s… _gauche_ …to beat your slave on a whim.”

The man whacked his slave on the shoulder, a small cry ripped from the other man.

“That’s crap.”

“Oh? Then the recent trend of not beating slaves except for a very good reason isn’t happening in the better circles?”

The man huffed. “Maybe, but I don’t believe in that New Age crap.”

“New Age? Well, I suppose it is. A New Age of civilized people?” Bruce waved his hand negligently. “It’s really rather barbaric, this beating thing.”

Teeth gleamed. “You ain’t seen barbaric yet.” He turned back and raised his belt again.

“Dear me. I guess you won’t be on the Garden Party guest list.”

The belt stilled. “What do you mean?” The man turned around and shook shaggy hair out of his eyes. “Dirk Kendricks is _always_ A-list.”

“Well, I’m on the Committee, and I truly don’t think I could recommend a slave-beater.”

“You’re on the Committee for the Garden Party, one of the grandest social events of the season?” Kendricks sneered. 

“Yes.” Bruce’s smile was mild as he thought of several ways to disembowel this preening peacock. “My mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother served on it.”

“And whom might they be…?”

“Sarah Jean, Constance, and Martha Wayne.”

“Wayne?” Kendricks blanched.

“You must be new in town,” Bruce said wryly.

Kendricks’ eyes narrowed. “And you say slave-beating just isn’t done?”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Maybe in the 19th century it was considered fashionable, but today…?” Bruce shrugged. “Aren’t those of us who have a lineage better than that? Aren’t we more sophisticated than that? Beating slaves is for fishwives and stevedores, not quality people.” Bruce sent up silent apologies to working-class people, but he knew that appealing to Kendrick’s snobbery would work.

Kendricks lowered his belt. Bruce smiled as charmingly as he could, glancing down at the slave whose gratitude shook him. He murmured, “Good day,” and walked away.

Once he was out of earshot he pulled out his cellphone. “Kathy, dearest, I think we need an update of strategy. Is Martha here on the East Coast right now?” He smiled. “Tell here if her schedule allows it, I’ll send a Wayne Enterprises jet for her.” Bruce laughed. “Excellent. I’d like to get on to the next phase.”

Bruce said goodbye and snapped the phone shut, his step a little lighter.

& & & & & &

Bruce arrived home, immediately struck by the sadness in Clark’s eyes as his lover greeted him. 

“What’s wrong, Clark?”

“Steve’s missing.”

“What?!”

“He was testing the XJ-1941 and something went wrong. He went off the radar.”

“Damn.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll call some contacts and see if I can find out anything.”

They sat out in the backyard, a worried Dick joining them. By the time Bruce hung up his cellphone, he was even more grim.

“They’re searching now but no sign of anything. And…” he took a deep breath “…Hal’s missing in the Outer Rim.”

“Oh, no.” Clark shivered. “Disappearing in space…”

“…is not good.”

Dick looked so sad that Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “Would you get us some lemonade, please?”

Dick nodded, and as soon as he disappeared into the kitchen Bruce said, “Being lost in space has very low survival odds.”

Clark nodded. “It’s not looking good for Steve, either.”

“Unfortunately, no. Communications went out, and as you said, he went off the radar. Before they lost the computer feed, it indicated the engine had failed.”

“I hope they find both of them.”

“Me, too. I just talked to them the other day, telling them to keep their calendars clear for Halloween Week.” Sadly Bruce remembered how pleased both men had been at the now-traditional invitation.

Clark removed his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

Bruce felt his worry increase. Clark was having more frequent spells of low energy. Dr. Allston had assured him it was a symptom of his disease, but Bruce was still uneasy. The thought of losing Clark terrified him. He reached out and squeezed Clark’s hand, and his lover smiled tiredly.

Dick returned with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses for everyone and sat down at the table. 

“I’m sending the jet for Martha Kent.” Bruce took a sip of lemonade.

“Wow, cool! Is she going to be our guest?” Dick asked. 

“No, she’ll be staying at my cousin’s house. She’s very comfortable there. But I’ll be going there and I’ll be upping my visibility on the Abolitionist issue. Now, let’s kick around some ideas.”

Clark and Dick perked up, very pleased to be consulted.

“You did that interview with Lois Lane in _The Daily Planet,”_ Dick said, sipping his drink.

“I did.”

“Maybe another one, but in _The Gotham Gazette?”_

“That sounds good.” Bruce drank again, needing to parch his thirst. “I want to push for more Slave Protection Laws.”

“Do you really think that’s practical?” Clark asked. “Masters don’t take kindly to being told what they can and can’t do with their slaves.”

“They don’t, but we have to start pushing for it. Too long we’ve allowed Masters free reign.” He refilled his glass. “Someday, maybe we can say there won’t be any more Masters.”

Clark and Dick smiled.

& & & & & &

After dinner, Bruce gently suggested that Clark go to bed. When Clark didn’t protest, Bruce knew that he had made the right decision. He helped Dick with his homework and then went upstairs.

Clark was still awake as it was early, watching the sun set as Bruce sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry,” Clark murmured.

“Want some company?”

Clark looked worried but began to unbutton his pajama top. Bruce put a hand over his.

“No, I mean just for rest.”

Relieved, Clark nodded.

Bruce changed, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed. He rarely got to wear pajamas and liked the silky texture against his skin.

As he curled around Clark, his lover asked, “What about patrol?”

“I told Dick we were taking the night off. It’s good to keep the criminals guessing.”

“It’s so early, Bruce.”

“I know.” Bruce kissed Clark’s temple. “I’m tired, too.” The news of the possible loss of two friends had hurt.

Clark closed his eyes, Bruce resting his head on his chest. The steady heartbeat was as reassuring as the eternal sound of the ocean outside the windows. Stars began to twinkle softly in indigo twilight.

Bruce thought of the slave in the park this morning. He hoped that he’d gotten through Kendricks’ thick head and that his slave had been spared further pain.

Bruce wanted to get a law with teeth passed against slave mistreatment and outright torture. He wanted the murder of slaves to be illegal. The more rights they gained, the quicker the path to eventual abolition.

_Maybe even within this generation._

Despite the little voice that always whispered that his slaves would leave him if they were free, he had to give them that choice.

It was only right.

Bruce sighed as he tightened his hold on Clark, letting the sound of the sea wash over them as he fell into a soothing sleep.


	25. Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up in Paradise.

_He awoke,  
In Paradise._

_Bright,  
Beautiful,  
Exotic._

_Like a dream  
Come true._

  


Selina Selway   
"Paradise Lost"   
2206 C.E.

He could hear the sound of the sea, its gentle rhythm soothing him as he drifted, murmured voices pleasing to the ear.

Steve’s eyes snapped open, adrenaline coursing through his body. _The jet was going down…!_

“Relax, Major. You are safe.”

Steve’s eyes focused on an…

“…Angel! You’re an Angel.”

A beautiful vision greeted him: long, dark hair cascading around a perfect face, eyes as deep and blue as the sparkling seas. 

“You…?”

“I am Diana.” She laid a cool hand on his brow. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” Steve groaned. “A mild headache.”

“Considering your head wound, that is a triumph.”

Steve winced. “How bad is it?”

“It was bad.” Diana removed her hand. “It is better now.”

Steve suddenly noticed her slave collar and bracelets. The brand was that of the U.S. Government.

His hip was throbbing. He hoped there wasn’t a hairline fracture or worse. He could feel bumps and bruises all over his body, especially on his right shoulder.

“Do you feel up to eating anything, Major?”

“You know my name?”

Diana smiled. “We are isolated here, but we are not completely ignorant of the outside world.”

A feeling of familiarity nagged at Steve. Had he seen this woman before?

“Paula.”

A blond woman in glasses appeared by Diana’s side. “Yes?”

“Food and drink, please.”

Paula nodded. “Yes, Princess.”

“Princess!” Memory flooded Steve. He grabbed Diana’s arm. “You were the statue in the Amazon exhibit!” He blushed as she looked down at his hand, and he quickly pulled it away. “I’m sorry.”

Her wary look softened. “Have some mangoes, Major. And nectar of the Gods.”

Steve felt dizzy. The Amazons! He had read about them and seen that exhibit in Gotham, but had never expected to meet them, especially the beautiful Princess.

Paula brought a plate of mangoes and a pitcher of juice, which tasted like pineapple.

The tent kept the tropical sun off his fair skin but he wanted to see out. Diana pulled the flap back and he saw the golden domes of Paradise Island.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly.

“Thank you.”

Diana wore a white chiton with gold clasps, her golden collar and bracelets glinting in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the tent opening. 

“I…remember my plane going down.”

She nodded. “The wreckage sunk to the bottom after we had a storm on Monday.’

“Monday?” Steve frowned. “I crashed on Friday. How long was I out?!”

“Today is the eighth day.”

“The eighth…!” Steve set his glass down. “I’ve been unconscious for a week.”

“Yes, Major.”

“Steve, please.”

“Very well…Steve.”

Steve loved the play of light on her hair. Her beauty was mesmerizing.

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable. He knew what the Amazons were used for: cruise ships filled with the jaded wealthy or rewarded military men and women made visits to the Island to partake of the sexual delights here, courtesy of the U.S. Government.

“Why did you save me?”

A guarded look came into her eyes. “Why would we let you drown?”

“I’m a member of the U.S. government, your enslaver.”

“True. But you come from the sky, a gift from the Gods. I…felt that you must be saved.”

“Thank you.”

Diana smiled coquettishly. “You are very welcome.”

Uneasiness curled in his stomach. The coquettishness jarred him. It wasn’t right.

_Of course she would expect that I…_

He pushed away the bowl of fruit. “I’m feeling a little nauseous. Could you please let me rest?”

She nodded. “Rest well, Steve.” Paula followed her out, closing the tent behind them.

Steve curled up on his side.

& & & & & &

He awoke with the headache, though less intense. By the less-bright sunlight flowing against the tent, he guessed it was late afternoon.

He still was slightly queasy. He felt sick and guilty and fascinated all at once.

_I’m not even a slaveowner, and here I’m feeling guilty. I don’t approve of slavery!_

He rubbed between his eyes. He was a representative of the Government. He doubted the Amazons thought highly of him.

Steve sighed. He was going to have to let his superiors know where he was.

_Still among the living._

He doubted that Hal would have been notified yet. Communications between Earth and the Outer Rim took a very long time, and besides, they weren’t married, so Hal would not be automatically notified of his lover’s disappearance.

He sat up, hoping his legs weren’t too wobbly. He had to let his parents and sister know that he was okay.

The tent flap opened.

“Are you feeling better, Steve?”

“A little, thank you.”

“Good.” This time her smile was serene instead of unsettling.

“I need to let my family and superiors know I’m okay.”

“Of course. Are you able to walk with assistance? Or shall I relay the message?”

“I’ll try walking.”

Steve stood, Diana by his side in an instant. He took a step, leaning on her heavily and hissing in pain from his hip, then straightened up. “Sorry.” 

“No need.” Diana helped him toward the exit, handing him a gold-headed cane. “You have had a severe head injury, among other things.”

Steve blinked at the bright sunlight, grateful that it wasn’t high noon. “This is a separate island?”

“Yes. It would be best if you did not speak of this place.” At Steve’s puzzled look she elaborated, “Our overseers think of it as only a recreational spot.”

“It’s not?”

“We did not report your presence right away.” 

Steve felt worry creep up on him. Would she be punished?

He suddenly noticed a peculiarity: thin but strong links of chain tied her bracelets together. She had freedom of movement, but it was an odd bondage arrangement.

“Let us go.”

Paula was waiting in a small boat, her bracelets chained the same way, and rowed them the short distance to the main island. Diana helped Steve out and up stone steps on the hillside.

Steve found himself in a dreamland: shining white-pillared buildings with gleaming golden roofs shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

Everywhere he looked, women walked the streets of the city in ancient Greek garb, beautiful and enticing. All wore slave collars and bracelets, all with links between their bracelets.

He spotted a man, dressed in fatigues. Of course there were Gov troops here. The Amazons were fierce warriors. Nearly four hundred years of slavery would not eradicate their instincts.

The man looked at Steve in surprise. He hurried from the small building he’d been leaning against.

“What have we got here?”

Steve held out his hand. “Major Steve Trevor, U.S. Air Force.”

Delight crossed the man’s face. Stocky in build, sporting a blond crewcut, he had the look of an elite trooper, his muscles honed and his grip firm as he shook Steve’s hand. Hazel eyes looked over the other man carefully.

“Major Michael Anderson, U.S. Army.” Anderson smiled. “You made the news, Major. Disappeared on that XJ-1941 test a week ago.” He looked at Diana. “You been holdin’ out on us, Princess?”

Before Diana could speak Steve interjected smoothly, “I drifted for a few days on my wing, then washed ashore on one of the small islands. Diana found me and bandaged my wounds, and now brought me here. I need to let my family and General Darnell know I’m all right.”

Anderson’s gaze lingered on Diana for a moment, then said, “This building’s the communications shack. We can get you connected right away.”

“Thank you.”

& & & & & &

After a tearful reunion with his family over the loudspeakers, General Darnell debriefed Steve on the malfunctions of the XJ-1941, then said, _“We’ll get someone out to see if we gather up the wreckage, but you’ve got a week off. Rest, recuperate, and enjoy yourself in Paradise.”_

“Thank you, sir. Oh, sir, will you send a message to Major Hal Jordan for me?”

A slight hesitation, then Darnell said, _“Certainly.”_

After the message was encoded, Anderson said, “We’ve got guest quarters for you, Major. Diana, would you escort him?”

“Of course, Major.”

They walked silently along the streets, the Amazons noticing the new man in their midst. Their expressions were mildly curious, but Steve was surprised by the lack of hostility.

Then again, slaves were experts at hiding resentment.

At the end of the street were a series of stone steps cut into a hillside.

Up above was a magnificent Palace, all gold and ivory and a place fit for a Princess.

Diana helped Steve up the steps, for which he was grateful. He was distressingly weak and his hip was killing him. He touched the bandage on his head.

“The bed in your room will be very comfortable.”

“Thanks. I could use a little rest, I guess.”

They proceeded after a few minutes up the remaining steps.

The Royal Palace was even more impressive up close. Steve touched an Ionic column, its smooth coolness echoing the cool interior.

The floors and walls were marble, edged in gold. Statuary and vases that Steve guessed were thousands of years old graced the rooms.

Finally they reached a sunny room in the corner, spacious and comfortable with a large bed, a filmy curtain hanging from its canopy, and a dresser and chair hewn from the Island’s cypress forests.

“Rest now,” Diana said as she helped Steve into bed, the links between her bracelets jingling musically.

As she started to leave the room, Steve said, “Thank you, Diana.”

She turned and smiled. “You are most welcome, Steve.”

She closed the door quietly behind her.


	26. Absolute Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets with Martha, Kathy, and a new ally to push harder for more Slave Protection Laws.

_"Slaves need protection from unscrupulous Masters. The old saying of ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely’ is played out every day in our homes and businesses."_

  


**Senator Lana Lang (D-Kansas)  
2249 C.E. **

“Bruce, I’d like you to meet Senator Lana Lang, Democrat from Kansas.”

Martha presented a statuesque redhead whom Bruce recognized from news photographs. Usually she was smartly dressed in stunning tailored suits at work or fashionable gowns at Georgetown balls and parties, but today she was dressed in casual black pants and a white silk shirt with a frilled neckline. Her hair was in a ponytail instead of her usual upswept style.

Bruce shook hands, noticing her firm grip. “Pleased to meet you, Senator.”

“Lana will do, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s Bruce.”

Lana smiled. Her hair was a more carrot-red instead of Martha’s strawberry-red. Her green eyes fit her coloring perfectly.

“Let’s get started,” Kathy suggested as she sat at the table in the solarium.

Bruce, Martha, and Lana took their seats, surrounded by exotic flowers of every hue and variety.

Martha took a sip of water. A silver pitcher had been set in the middle of the table, and each place held a stylus and datapad.

“Since you requested this meeting, Bruce, I’ll let you start. Oh, by the way, thanks for the jet. Beats coach anytime.”

Bruce laughed. “You’re welcome. And, yes, I called this meeting because I want to plot the next strategic level.”

“I’ve observed you becoming more outspoken for the Cause in the past year,” Lana said.

“Yes, I wanted to do some education.”

“Bruce has been educating Gotham’s elite,” said Kathy with a smile.

“Oh?”

“It’s not _cultured_ anymore to treat slaves shabbily.”

Bruce grinned. “I’ll admit to making some inroads, but there’s still a long way to go.” He somberly recounted the incident in the park.

“Barbaric,” Kathy sighed.

“Is there any way you can introduce a bill to legislate stricter guidelines over Masters in the area of slave abuse?” Bruce asked Lana. 

“Difficult at best. After the defeat of the Branding Bill, which I vehemently opposed, we lost steam in getting laws passed to direct Masters what to do with their slaves.”

“The Branding Bill would have forced slaveowners to brand their slaves.” Bruce suppressed a shudder.

“Yes.” Lana cocked her head. “You still own personal slaves.”

“I do.” Bruce looked steadily at her. “I won’t…I can’t…give them up.”

Lana nodded slowly. “Also a practical decision. If you freed your slaves, they would be classified as runaways and subject to torture and execution.”

Bruce felt slightly nauseous as he thought of the methods used to apply punishment. Execution was merciful in this case.

“I know it’s difficult to enforce Master oversight, especially since slaves can’t testify and freemen would be reluctant to ‘rat’ on other freemen, but a law on the books would be a step forward. The debate alone would be worthwhile.” Bruce took a sip of water.

Lana nodded. “Agreed, but what should be the parameters? If we showcased beatings and mutilations, that’s fine, but should we include classifying slave kidnappings as such, instead of merely stolen property? And what about slave murders? Legally you cannot be charged with murdering the manacled, only ‘destruction of property’.”

Kathy frowned. “Should we stick to beatings and mutilations? Reclassification of kidnapping and murder will bring up the debate on whether slaves are human at all and entitled to ‘personhood’ on any level. If that debate rages, we might lose even cursory oversight. Should we try and go for half a loaf, establish a shift in mores, and then go for the jugular?” 

“A valid argument,” said Martha. “But can we afford to let kidnapping and murder only rate fines instead of prison time? As it is now, a freeman can murder a slave with impunity and only be slapped with a fine, and that’s only if it’s not your own slave. A Master can kill his own slave and absolutely nothing can be done.”

“Exactly. The mindset is so entrenched. How can we fight that all at once? Generations of that entrenched thought can’t be eradicated with one bill.”

“I understand your argument, Kathy, but people will never really be ‘ready’. We could wait a hundred years and there would be those not ready for new thoughts.” Bruce tapped his stylus on the table.

“Do you speak from personal experience, Cousin?”

“Before I purch…met my Prize, I went along without much contact with any slaves except Alfred. I knew deep down it was wrong to enslave people, but I knew how the deck was stacked and I had…other concerns.” His fingers curled tightly around the stylus. “But I came in closer everyday contact with my Prize, and now my Squire.” Bruce looked down. “I’ve seen slavery with a human face. Theirs, in fact,” he said softly.

The women all looked at each other, then Kathy reached out and took her cousin’s hand. “So, what’s your plan?”

Bruce looked up and smiled at her, squeezing her hand before he released it.

“I propose more of me speaking out, especially against the beatings and mutilations, skirting around kidnappings and murders. Reinforce the snobbery angle, and then ease into more pointed pronouncements. I want to eventually say that I would free my slaves if it was allowed.”

“Powerful words, Bruce,” said Lana, her green eyes sharp.

“I want to push as far as I can, with your help.”

Lana nodded. “We should work on a timetable and coordinate our efforts. You should reinforce your views on slave mistreatment as terribly uncouth, and then start hammering away at more of a human decency angle.”

Bruce nodded. “Vicki Vale of The Gotham Gazette has been trying to get an interview with me for months. She was furious that Lois Lane scooped her last year.” Bruce’s cellphone rang. « Pardon me, ladies, I’ve been expecting this call.” He left the solarium to talk out in the hall.

Lana made a few notes on her datapad. “Except for Alfred, he doesn’t speak of his other slaves by name.”

Kathy sipped her water. “He does speak of his Squire by name, but never his Prize.”

“Yes, a peculiar custom.”

“It is the tradition of the nobility to keep their pleasure slaves Veiled and their names known only to the Master, or to a select few.”

“He cares for this…Prize…of his.”

“I think he does,” Martha said softly.

Lana looked at her. “Your instincts are usually spot-on, Martha.”

The older redhead laughed. “Good thing! Helps keep Jonathan in line.”

The other women grinned as Bruce returned. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, just girl talk,” Kathy said brightly.

Bemused, Bruce sat down, a smile lighting his face. “I just got word that a friend of mine has been found. Steve Trevor was missing after a test flight went wrong, and now he’s contacted the military to say he’s all right!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Bruce!”

He nodded. “I just wish that the same could be said for Hal Jordan. He’s still missing in the Outer Rim.” He sighed. “Usually when someone’s lost in space, the odds aren’t good.”

Lana quickly looked at Martha, a shadow passing over the older woman’s face. Kathy and Bruce didn’t notice as Kathy squeezed her cousin’s hand. 

“Hopefully, good news on that front will come,” Bruce said. “In the meantime, Lana, I think I have a timetable for you…”


	27. Paradise Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Queen Hippolyta and discovers a disturbing fact of life in Paradise.

_Paradise lost,  
Paradise gained,  
Eden or Olympus,  
It’s all the same._

  


**Elenora Walden  
"Ancient Echoes"   
2206 C.E. ******

Steve awoke, sensing a presence in the room.

“Diana?”

She came out of the shadows. “Can you attend dinner, or would you rather eat here?”

Steve sat up. He still had a headache, though it was much less, and he was hungry.

“I’d like to try and attend dinner.”

“Excellent.”

Diana helped him up, handing him his cane, and they walked through the marble corridors, dusky light streaming through the windows. 

They passed through the Throne Room, grand with tapestries and the marble throne, but empty of people, and entered a room with low tables and couches. A meal was already laid out on the table, and Steve gratefully sat on a couch, Diana sitting next to him.

The whisper of silk alerted Steve to a newcomer.

A tall, regal, blond woman swept into the room, followed by two servants. One servant poured wine from a carafe while the other set a plate of grapes on the table.

“Your Majesty,” Steve said, attempting to rise, his hip throbbing.

The blond held out her hand, chain links between her golden bracelets.

“No need to rise, Major, and yes, I am Queen Hippolyta.”

The Queen sat on a couch and reclined sideways in the manner of the ancient Greeks, her crown glittering on her head.

Steve wondered at this show of royalty. Hippolyta was just as much a slave as her daughter or the rest of the Amazons.

“Are you feeling better, Major?”

“Much, thank you.” Well, he still had a headache and his hip was throbbing, but no need to worry his hosts with the details.

“Excellent.” Hippolyta waved her hand at the table. “How is your appetite?”

“Pretty good.”

Diana offered him a golden plate and Steve filled it with grapes, a pomegranate, and freshly-baked bread.

“Delicious,” he pronounced, suddenly ravenous.

“Excellent.”

Steve was a little disturbed by the smile on the Queen’s face. It didn’t seem quite right. 

“You were injured testing a new plane?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, it was a total disaster.”

“Ah, but you are in Paradise now.”

Steve smiled but felt uncomfortable. Maybe this place had been Paradise at one time, but he doubted it was now. Everything was beautiful on the surface, but in reality it was a giant brothel, exploiting a proud Warrior race.

As darkness fell, braziers were lit around the room by the servants.

“You have journeyed into space many times,” said Hippolyta.

“I have. It’s fascinating out there. Surrounded by endless space, it puts things into perspective.”

“The old tales of the Gods speak of infinity.”

“The Greek Gods are interesting myths.”

A small smile crossed the Queen’s face. “Perhaps they live on in Destiny.”

“I suppose so. Fate, Destiny…”

“I believe in Destiny,” Diana said quietly.

Steve looked at her, mesmerized by her beauty and haunted by the sadness lurking in her eyes.

He turned back to Hippolyta, and that was when he noticed it: a slightly glassy look to her eyes.

He felt slightly numbed. Of course! How did you successfully subjugate a highly-skilled Warrior race for almost four centuries? 

You drugged them.

He had no idea of any rebellious incidents, but he would talk with Anderson tomorrow. Did this drug make the Amazons docile, or were there any eruptions?

Without thought he covered Diana’s hand with his. For a second, she stiffened, then squeezed his hand.

The conversation continued pleasantly, Steve relaxing a little as he enjoyed the food and the intellectual stimulation. He allowed himself to play the game, pretending that the woman who sat next to him was a Queen beyond in name only, and that he was their honored guest.

After dinner, Diana escorted him back to his quarters.

“You ate well,” she observed.

“It was delicious food.”

“We are fortunate. The food here is always fresh.”

“Mmm.” Steve would have said fitting for Paradise, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Sleep well, Steve. I shall come for you to partake of breakfast in the morning.”

“Good night.”

Steve watched her go, troubled in his heart.


	28. A Dangerous Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce spreads the Abolitionist message.

_"When the Day of Jubilee comes, all of humanity will rejoice."_

  


**Kathy Kane  
Gotham City Chapter President   
The National Abolitionist Society   
2248 C.E.**

“Bruce, I hear you’re an Abo now.”

Evangeline Halstead’s brown eyes glittered as she smiled at Bruce, who affected a bored look. He sipped from his champagne flute and replied, “Why do you say that?”

She waved a slender hand. “I read your interview in The Gotham Gazette. You believe we should have laws that prevent slave beatings and mutilations?”

Bruce lowered his glass. “I stand by what I said.”

“Even to the point of reclassifying slave stealing as kidnapping and slave killings as murder?”

Several other people were listening, and Bruce smiled. “I do.”

Evangeline looked impressed. “Bold words, Bruce. You know that such views are considered radical.”

He looked over the rim of his glass. “Do you consider me daring?”

She laughed. “You’re wicked.”

He joined in her laughter. “You look like a person who doesn’t mind wicked.”

She drew closer, her shapely body flattered by her white silk dress. “You’re right about that, darling,” she purred, touching his jacket sleeve. “But, honestly, dear, shouldn’t you be more cautions?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m not freeing my slaves.”

“Would you if you could?”

Bruce was very aware of the listening ears, and her carefully replied, “That’s a hypothetical, Evangeline. Any slaves freed by an owner are automatically considered runaways, and that would mean terrible suffering as punishment, followed by death. I hardly think that would be fair to my loyal servants, now would it?”

“But _if_ you could...”

“If Emancipation was passed as the law of the land, of course I would.” Bruce put his empty flute on a passing waiter’s tray, taking a fresh one. “Until such a day, wouldn’t it reflect well on us to treat them as sentient beings instead of like furniture?”

A man in his early thirties joined the group, dark-brown hair slicked back as he fingered an old-fashioned pocketwatch on his vest.

“Interesting ideas, Bruce.”

“Thank you, Davis.”

“Do you think such a comprehensive law can be passed?”

“I think that Senator Lang and her allies in Congress are going to try.”

“Are you one of those allies?” Evangeline asked.

“I am.”

Davis raised an eyebrow. “So will you be working the halls of Congress?”

“Oh, I’ll leave that to Senator Lang.”

“But you wouldn’t object?”

“Object?”

“To a change in our culture. A pretty big change.” Davis sipped his champagne. “Freeing slaves would disrupt the foundations of our society.”

“Change always does.”

“It would affect Wayne Enterprises.”

“Not really. We don’t use slaves in our core group. Only when we merge with other companies do slaves become part of our holdings, and then there are strict company guidelines for their treatment.”

“Admirable. And you may be right. The day of Emancipation may be coming.”

“Nonsense!”

The contemptuous voice of Edmund Caldwell cut in. Evangeline and Davis stood their ground, accustomed to Edmund’s aggressiveness.

“Do you honestly believe that freeing the manacled will do any good?”

“It would for them,” Bruce said. Chuckles greeted this statement.

Edmund waved a hand. “Do you think this little soiree would be possible without slaves? Cooking, serving, cleaning up?”

“Why not? Free servants do it all the time.”

“Slaves are meant to serve.”

“But isn’t that a Human notion?”

“It’s a divine one.” Edmund smiled. “Doesn’t the Bible and other holy books decree there shall be slave and free?”

“Yes, but they also warn against eating certain foods and sex outside of marriage, neither of which is followed today.”

“The rock-solid truths endure.”

Bruce observed the glint of fanaticism in Edmund’s pale gray eyes. He drank his champagne, giving himself time to think.

“Well, I can’t see the harm in treating slaves humanely. Isn’t it a waste of resources to maim or kill slaves at whim?”

Edmund sneered, “A typical liberal, soft-headed position. Such thinking makes us weak.”

Murmurs of assent went around the circle of listeners.

“Compassion is weak?” Bruce deliberately let his voice grew incredulous. 

“Of course! Do you think the Empire was built on compassion?”

“So let the strong dictate, and grind the weak into dust?”

“Interesting views for a man whose family built their wealth on the backs of the poor hundreds of years ago.”

“Well, I can’t exactly change the past now, can I?” Bruce gestured with his glass. “But I can influence the future.”

“Not for the better if you think freeing slaves is a good idea.”

“Other civilizations have survived without slavery as the foundation.”

“And they all are as dust.”

Bruce shrugged. “History says otherwise.”

“History is dead, my young friend. The present Empire is composed completely of slave societies. Those who professed…freedom…are gone.” His pale eyes glinted.

Bruce frowned. “So we should never strive to be better? We treat animals better than our slaves! There is the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but nothing for the manacled.”

Edmund snorted. “What’s better about freeing sluts to overrun society with their promiscuity?”

“Surely you jest, Edmund! Slaves are promiscuous because it’s what we force upon them!”

Edmund laughed. “They’d spread their legs if they were slave or free. It’s their nature. That’s why they were born slaves.”

“They spread their legs because if they don’t, they are severely punished.”

“You mean your prize slut doesn’t open himself wide for you on command? You allow him to refuse?”

“My relations with my Prize is my business, Edmund.” Bruce smiled but anyone observant saw the steel behind it.

Edmund was a very observant man.

“You’re a fool, Bruce. You’re going down a very dangerous path.”

“Perhaps.” Bruce’s smile was predatory. “But I’ve never backed away from danger.”

“No, I suppose not. Well, you and Senator Lang enjoy your little crusade, Bruce. No matter what laws you pass, slaves will still be stolen and used in the way God intended.”

Edmund moved away, a coterie of admirers going with him. Evangeline smirked.

“He’s really full of himself, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but it’s good to know what the other side’s thinking.”

“Truly.” People were drifting away now that the show was over. “But he is right about one thing.” At Bruce’s quirked eyebrow she added, “You are treading down a dangerous path.” She hooked at the backside of a passing slave waiter. “Pity to lose the availability of sex.”

Bruce had to smile. “True, but I’m sure the slaves would say differently.”

She laughed. “No doubt.”

Davis asked, “Do you really think that there will be Abolition in our lifetime?”

“I guess we will find out eventually.” Bruce finished his champagne. “If the Movement succeeds, then we will. A lot of very smart people are working toward that goal.”

“I thought if you advocated slave freedom you had to sell them or give them away,” Evangeline said.

“I’m not an official member of the Society, not do I go around making speeches.”

“Trying to have your cake and eat it, too?”

Bruce smiled.

“Have you seen his cake?” Davis guffawed. “I’d keep it, too!” 

Evangeline laughed and Bruce took the opportunity to take his leave.

He wandered out to the gardens of the Mallowan estate. He had considered turning down the invitation from Clarice and Sidney but had decided that it would be a good opportunity to continue spreading his message.

He was feeling depressed, however, over the disappearance of Hal. He was a good man, and he and Steve were decorated pilots, and close friends now. Bruce had a small enough circle of friends to feel cavalier about losing them! It was a week since both had fallen off the map, and now Steve was back in contact. Still no word on Hal, though.

Bruce inhaled a scent of Jovaran _javra_ , the yellow flower resembling a rose but with a stronger fragrance.

Clark, Alfred, and Dick were all upset over the events of the last week. Hal and Steve had always treated them with respect, and that was always treasured by slaves.

The reactions had been characteristic all week while both men were still missing: Alfred was stoic with British stiff-upper-lip attitude, making practical suggestions for a search and baking chocolate chip cookies; Dick worrying but trying to keep things light while keeping up with news reports; and Clark, plainly showing his distress, wishing desperately that he could help while quietly performing his duties.

Bruce loved them all, and that was why he was here, trying to lay the groundwork for their eventual freedom.

As he walked, he remembered the recent meeting with Martha, Kathy, and Lana…

& & & & & &

 _“Should we include classifying ‘violation of property’ as rape?” Martha asked._

_“No.” Lana shook her head. “People are willing to admit the horrors of mutilation, even murder, but sexual matters are a whole different kettle of fish. It makes those who use slaves for pleasure uneasy at possible identification as rapists.”_

_Lana’s sharp tone brought Bruce’s eyes to hers. At one time he would have been uncomfortable with this discussion, but not anymore. Hell, just awhile ago Clark had denied him his body, and he’d let him! That was not the act of a rapist._

_They continued their staredown, then Kathy said, “Lana, Bruce is one of the good guys.”_

_Lana nodded, and Martha interjected, “We’d better leave sexual issues out for now. Sad to say, even freemen aren’t immune to victimization in this area. And just as sadly, slaves expect to be physically used. If they haven’t lost their virginity by age eighteen, they immediately do when they reach legal age. A virgin over that age is rare indeed.”_

& & & & & &

Bruce had immediately thought of Clark, older than eighteen, at least by medical estimate, and still a virgin.

_He’s never had anyone but me._

Bruce breathed in the scent of the _javras._

_And he never will._

He flipped open his cellphone. “Brendan, I’m ready to depart. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

He turned and walked back into the house to say his goodbyes to his hosts.


	29. Star-Spangled Amazon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns about what-might-have-been.

_"A Great War rages  
In the  
Land Of Columbia.  
Freedom itself  
Is at stake._

_Ye shall  
Hold a great contest  
And choose a champion  
To bring  
The Amazon Way  
Of Peace and Love  
To America."_

  


**So sayeth Aphrodite  
"The Amazon Chronicles"  
1863 C.E.**

Steve toured the city with Diana, feeling better but still shaky. He held hands with her, needing the support even with the cane. He was also glad of the excuse to do so, and not make it seem as if he was angling for sex. Diana saw that angle far too often.

Now that he knew that the Amazons were being drugged, he noticed the almost dream-like quality of their movements.

_I wonder if this drugged state numbs them to the constant degradation._

He sighed.

“Are you all right, Steve?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled at Diana, his stomach fluttering as she smiled back. She looked incredibly beautiful in the morning sun, a light breeze ruffling her hair.

He saw Anderson lounging around the communications building. Squeezing her hand, he said, “Wait here, please. I need to talk to the major.”

She nodded, and Steve made his way over to the Army major.

“’Mornin’, Major Trevor.”

“Major Anderson.” Steve brushed a lock of stray hair off his forehead. “I’d like to talk to you inside.” 

“Sure.”

Steve followed him inside. The small building was empty. Perfect.

“Major, I…”

“Call me Mike, sir. Too many majors around here.”

Steve answered the smile with one of his own. Call me Steve.” At Mike’s nod, he continued, “The Amazons are controlled by drugs?”

Mike nodded. “Their food, mostly. Sometimes we lace the drinks.”

Steve frowned. “I suppose it’s necessary.”

“Damned right it is! Otherwise they’d be plotting and figuring out ways to slit our throats.”

“No doubt.”

“Hell, even without their strength and speed they could take us if we didn’t send them to La-La Land.”

“And they lose their strength by…?”

“…chaining their bracelets together. Has to be by a man, too.” Mike leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “It’s why only men are assigned here. In case the chains are broken, a woman wouldn’t work.”

“Do they ever break the chains?”

“Once in a great while. The drugs here keep them docile and hazy enough not to try, usually, and the chains are made of extra-strong materials mined on Janus VI.”

Steve sat down, suddenly tired. “The men here are strictly hands-off?”

“Most of the time. The men stationed here are given the choice of partner once a month. Guess the brass figured that a taste every now and then would keep people in line.”

Slightly stick to his stomach, Steve asked, “And are they kept in line?”

Mike sighed. “Most of the time.” At Steve’s frown he said, “There’s always that 1% that gives the 99.9% a bad name.” 

Steve’s hand clenched at the thought of Diana…

“Any violators are dealt with severely, of course.”

“Of course.” Curiosity flickered through Mike’s eyes. “Why so interested?”

“Oh, just curious about the set-up here.” Steve hoped that his shrug seemed casual enough. “Now, is the purpose of the men here just for guarding, or are studies being made?”

“We occasionally get teams of academics here: historians, archeologists, that sort of thing.”

Steve nodded. “Good. I know this is a pleasure island, but there’s a lot of knowledge and history here.”

“It’s a giant brothel,” Mike said, his voice indicating he wasn’t leering about it.

Steve felt saddened by the description, because Mike was correct. The entire island was a giant whorehouse, the proud Amazons reduced to servicing every freeman or freewoman who came in on their rich pleasure cruises, in addition to any military granted special usage.

“Uh, thanks, Mike.”

As Steve rose to leave, Mike asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, though I still tire easily.”

“Will you be staying another week?”

“I think so.” Steve thought of Hal too far away to offer any comfort. “It’s beautiful here.”

“That it is.”

& & & & & &

After Steve left, Mike went over to the communications console and picked up a piece pf paper. He folded it and put it away in his shirt pocket.

No need to tell Steve yet about his MIA buddy. Let the guy have a relaxing convalescence. Hanging out with the Princess was a good deal if he ever saw one. Why upset the man until he was stronger?

& & & & & &

“I would like to show you something, Steve.”

He nodded and Diana led him through a new part of the Palace. They reached a room with framed newspapers on the walls, but the eye-catching part was a glass case in the middle of the room.

Draped upon a mannequin was a bright costume: red bodice with a gold eagle, a gold belt and lasso, and a long blue skirt patterned with white stars. A gold tiara with a red star completed the outfit.

‘It’s beautiful,” Steve said. He was struck by the American symbols.

“It was designed by my mother.” Pride tinged Diana’s voice. “We had been hearing of the Great War in the United States, and how the North was fighting for freedom. It was decreed by Aphrodite that an Amazon should be sent to America to help the Union. There was to be a contest and the winner was to go to America.”

Steve read the framed newspapers, yellowed with age, all news of the Civil War. He grimly noted the headline screaming about the Northern loss at Gettysburg. Many historians believed it to be the turning point of the War.

“Admiral Stark’s ship crashed on our shores and invasion happened soon after, so there was no Amazon to America.”

Steve felt that sadness wash over him again. What a symbol for freedom an Amazon in such a costume could have been!

He realized that the hand he held was suddenly icy-cold. He turned and looked at Diana, whose expression was unreadable.

“It’s a beautiful costume,” Steve said softly.

She roused out of her reverie and smiled gently. “Mother was quite proud of her designing skill.”

“I’m sorry.” _For everything._

She squeezed his hand. “I believe you are,” she said, sapphire-blue eyes looking into his soul.

Steve felt a rush of emotion, but he settled for squeezing her hand. She smiled a genuine smile at him, his heart fluttering.

“It is time for lunch. Would you care to join me?”

“Very much.”

Diana led him from the room, sunlight glinting off the costume’s gold accessories.


	30. "A Good Night's Work"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy gets more comfortable as both Speedy and slave in the Queen Household.

_"The Green Arrow and Black Canary have a new sidekick, Speedy. He looks like a great addition to the crimefighting team of Star City."_   


**Bennett Barnes  
Editorial   
The Star City Sentinel   
22— C.E.**

Speedy leapt over the rooftops, the wind rustling in his hair as he pursued the petty thief. The man was fast and agile but no match for young legs. He smiled as he paused at the edge of a roof, drawing his bow with the aptly-named boxing glove arrow, which was ten kinds of cool. Not even Batman and Robin had arrows that were fun.

Speedy let loose, his aim unerringly true. The thief let out a _whuff!_ of surprise, falling to the hard roof. Speedy leaped across, landing lightly beside him.

“You’re bagged, mister.”

The thief groaned, groggy as he scrabbled at the tarpaper. Speedy trussed him up, green boots landing beside him.

“Good job, Speedy.”

“Thanks, G.A.”

Green Arrow smiled as he clapped a hand on Speedy’s shoulder. Black Canary had been right behind Green Arrow and nudged the thief’s hip with her boot.

“Yes, good work. Silly boy. Thievery is not tolerated in Star City.”

“Please,” the thief groaned.

“Let’s bring him down, Canary. Save the police a climb up the stairs.”

The adults hauled the man to his feet and brought him down to the pavement, tying him to a lamppost. Green Arrow smiled at the old-fashioned police callbox, intended for people wary of cellphone numbers being traced.

“Chief Sullivan, we’ve got a little pick-up for your boys. Corner of Eighty Street and DeLancey. You’ll find a broken window at _Marlowe Jewelers_.” Green Arrow smiled. “You’re welcome.” He hung up the phone. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, you can’t leave me here!”

“The squad car’s on its way.”

Speedy followed his mentors up to the rooftops.

& & & & & &

“A good night,” Ollie said as he pulled his mask off back in the Arrow Cave.

Dinah shucked off her jacket. “You’re a natural at this, Roy.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Dinah ruffled his hair and he grinned.

Roy followed Ollie into the showers. While he showered he decided that Dinah was right. He was a natural at this kind of work. He was extremely skilled with the bow-and-arrow and other weaponry, and was athletic enough to leap those rooftops.

Out of the shower, Roy dressed in a fluffy yellow robe, pulling the belt tight. He looked around the Cave. 

“Does Batman think you’re stealing his ideas?”

Ollie smirked. “Sure, but so what? I’ve got a useable Cave down under my house, so why shouldn’t I use it? Arrow Cave doesn’t sound as cool as Batcave, but we don’t have winged furballs diving at our heads, either.”

Roy laughed. He had to admit that his Master was right there. “Are we going to meet up with Batman and Robin?”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be long. Crime is always around.”

Dinah emerged from the showers in her robe, hair wet and sparkling.

“Mmm, Pretty Bird, always a pleasure,” Ollie grinned.

Dinah smiled. “Roy, dear, cookies and milk or straight be bed?”

“A snack sounds good.”

“Let’s go.”

Ollie and Roy went to the master bedroom, Dinah arriving with the snack. Since not everyone on staff knew about their dual lives, it was best to be discreet.

Roy eagerly took the plate of cookies. Ella was an excellent cook and baker. She had been born into service with the Queens and was one of those in the know. Fiercely loyal to Ollie, who had helped her bake cookies as a child, she always kept a snack ready after night work. 

“You’re a quick study,” Dinah said as she curled up on the bed.

Roy smiled. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“It’s Dinah, at least when we’re not in hearing of the other servants.”

Roy’s smile was like sunshine. “Thank you, Mistress…I mean, Dinah.”

“Hug,” Dinah said as she held out her arms.

Roy hugged tightly, unable to believe his good fortune after so much pain since being torn away from the reservation. 

“Well, sounds like ‘Ollie’ is appropriate here.”

Roy grinned at his Master, who seemed just as happy. Ollie pulled him into a hug.

& & & & & &

Roy snuggled under the blankets. It had been a great night. Success at his superhero job. Success with his mentors. He had really hit the jackpot falling in with this family after the horror of the brothel.

He curled up on his side, clutching the blankets closer. He didn’t like to think of his time there. The memories were definitely less than pleasant.

Instead he thought of his present life, looking ahead to next month and the trip to Gotham for Halloween.

Bat Country.

He smiled, excited at the prospect of meeting the Dynamic Duo. Robin could teach him plenty of tricks. The Batman’s sidekick was the far better acrobat from the footage he’d seen, but he was willing to bet that he could teach the Boy Wonder a few archery tricks.

He was also excited at the prospect at making a new friend. Melody was wonderful, but she didn’t go out and fight crime every night like Robin did. That created a bond that was tough to break.

He thought of tonight and getting permission to drop ‘Master’ and ‘Mistress’ in private. He understood that it didn’t mean that he should take liberties. Ollie was an easygoing Master but he expected obedience, and Roy understood that, just as he understood that Dinah was sweet and affectionate but wasn’t above disciplining a slave when needed.

Still, tonight was a big step forward.

& & & & & &

“Wayne Manor?”

“That’s right.” Ollie held out the embossed invitation. “We’re going for Halloween Week.”

“Cool!”

Dinah and Ollie laughed at the redhead’s enthusiasm. “You’ll like Dick,” Dinah said. “He’s a great kid. He’s Bruce’s Squire.”

“He has a Prize, too?”

Dinah nodded. “A very fine one, from what I’ve seen. Bruce keeps him Veiled.”

“The slaves at the brothel talked about him. They said he was an elite slave from the very beginning.”

“I’m not surprised. Bruce always had an eye for quality,” Ollie said.

“I’m sure he lives in a nice place, but not as nice as this one.”

Ollie and Dinah grinned, and Ollie ruffled Roy’s hair. “Such loyalty.” Roy laughed. “You’re right, Queens’ Castle is just as good as Wayne Manor, but you’ll be suitably impressed. And I echo Dinah: I think you’ll like Dick a lot.” Ollie glanced at the mantel clock. “Please tell Ella we’ll have lunch in the garden. It’s still warm enough to sit outside.”

“Yes, Master.”

& & & & & &

As Roy left the room, Ollie relaxed against the sofa cushions. “I really think that he and Dick will hit if off.”

Dinah sat next to him. “I agree. I think they’ll be good friends. Roy’s a good boy. He’s very gentle with Melody.” A troubled look entered her eyes. “He mentioned the brothel slaves talking. Do we know for certain if he was untouched there?”

Sympathy shone in Ollie’s eyes. “Maybe it’s best we don’t know for now. Roy will tell us when he’s ready, if anything happened.”

Dinah snuggled against him, holding on tight.


	31. Shining Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Paradise, one can never fully escape Destiny. Sometimes it’s the perfect place to embrace it.

_He fell from the sky  
With eyes of blue,  
To the captive Princess,  
Who knew._

_She believed  
In what  
Is to be,  
And when he came  
She would  
Soon be free._

_Because,  
Truth be told,  
This man  
With the hair of gold,  
Was the key  
To what  
The Warrior Princess  
Would be._

  


**The Freedom Chronicles  
2363 C.E.**

Steve sat on the beach, watching the play of sunlight on the water. The color of the sea was different here from the New England coast: bluer and calmer, an equally-blue sky stretching out to the horizon.

_This island would be perfect peace if it wasn’t for…_

He rubbed his face, trying to dispel his depression. He really hated slavery. It was a part of society here on Earth and all through the Empire, but he’d never been comfortable with it. He had grown up in a slave-free middle-class home. He had never had much contact with slaves, but he had grown very fond of the Wayne slaves. 

Alfred was wonderful, really running the Manor, and taking excellent care of his Master and his charges. He was reserved in the British fashion but had crafted a home in the cavernous Manor.

Dick was a bright bundle of joy, clever and amusing and a delight to be around.

 _He’s also going to have to be Veiled when he gets older._

Clark was special, too, serving his Master in the most intimate way but Steve had not sensed any resentment on his part.

Of course, he could just be good at covering his true feelings, as most slaves were, but Steve had talked to Clark and had divined the gentle nature of the man. He doubted that Clark was capable of hating Bruce, especially since he was treated well.

And was there more there? In unguarded moments, he had seen the way that Bruce had looked at Clark.

As dangerous as that situation was, Steve couldn’t fault Bruce for falling in love with his slave. Clark was sweet, beautiful, and probably his confidante.

Bruce was also speaking out more forcefully for Abolition despite the dangers there, too. His reputation could become tarnished, his influence lessened, but he refused to step back.

Steve tightened his arms around himself. As a member of the U.S., and ultimately, Earth military, he was sworn to uphold the status quo, which was built firmly on the backs of slaves. Getting involved in this issue was strictly forbidden and grounds for dismissal. 

He could lose everything.

“Steve.”

He turned and smiled. “Good morning, Diana.”

“Good morning.” She stood easily on the sand. “Ready for your morning walk?”

“Very much so.” He held out his hand and she helped him up. “Let’s go.”

His left hand interlaced with hers, the right holding his cane, and they started toward the city.

While walking the streets, he noticed a large raised platform in the square.

“Is that for special ceremonies?”

Diana nodded. “And announcements. Mother used to use it for those purposes. Now our overseers do the announcing.” Her voice was neutral. “It also doubles as the auction block.” At Steve’s frown she explained, “Every time a cruise ship comes, the passengers vie for the Amazons they wish to bed.”

Feeling nauseous, Steve said, “I’m sorry.”

“You are not the one running this whorehouse.”

Steve winced but remained silent. He might not be in charge of this system, but he tacitly supported it by serving in the military.

“Let us go to breakfast.”

Steve nodded, turning his back on the auction block.

& & & & & &

It was a beautiful view. Steve and Diana sat on the terrace, eating fresh melon and strawberries as the ocean sparkled before them.

“Which book do you wish to discuss today?”

He smiled. “I’ll let you decide.” His gaze returned to the sea. “I’m going to miss this view.”

“Miss it?”

Steve nodded. “I have to get back. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“I…am sorry to hear that.”

He looked at her. He saw genuine regret in her eyes before she looked away. He gently grasped her hand across the table. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said softly.

She met his eyes and smiled.

& & & & & &

Steve enjoyed his last day on the Island, spending all his time with Diana.

As late afternoon shadows lengthened across the street, Steve noticed the shadows moving in an alley.

“No,” came a whimper.

Steve headed for the alley, Diana right behind him.

A blond Amazon was backed up against the wall, a soldier grinning lustily at her, his hand already up her skirt.

“C’mon, baby, I’m in the mood for some lovin’.”

The slave said nothing but resignation showed on her face.

“What the hell is going on here?” Steve snapped.

The soldier turned. “Oh, hi, Major. Just takin’ advantage of what the Island has to offer.”

“Well, Carlin…” Steve read the name on the man’s shirt “…it’s my understanding you’re supposed to be hands-off.”

Carlin smirked. He ran a hand over his short brown hair. “You know policy, Major. Not always followed to the letter.” 

“Is Mike Anderson a subscriber to this breach of policy?”

Carlin moved his hand under the Amazon’s skirt. “What’s Anderson got to do with this?” The slave moaned and Carlin grinned.

Steve yanked Carlin’s hand away. “You get your chance to indulge. Until then, hands off!”

Carlin glared. “You’ve got nerve. You’re probably bangin’ the Princess over there and you’re denyin’ me my share of pussy?”

Steve lunged and slammed Carlin against the wall, the Amazon slipping away and into Diana’s arms.

“It’ll be all right, Mala,” she whispered.

Steve’s face was close to Carlin’s. “You’re violating regs here, _Sergeant._ You’re on report and will be disciplined as such. You’re on an island of women meant to serve, but not at your whim.”

“Like hell!” snarled Carlin. “Whores are whores, no matter how you pretty them up!”

Steve’s face contorted into a sneer of his own. “You keep your opinions to yourself, and _your hands off_ the women of this island!” He backed away warily, keeping his eye on Carlin. The man was his height but had fifteen pounds of muscle on him. “Let’s go, ladies,” he said, ignoring the derisive snort from Carlin.

Anger fueled Steve’s limping gait toward the communications shack, the women under his protection. He snapped, “Mike!” as he approached the open doorway.

“What’s up?” asked Mike as he appeared, ready for anything. He noticed Diana comforting her sister Amazon.

“I want Sergeant Carlin transferred off this island.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

“He violated the hands-off policy.” 

Mike glanced at the Amazons again. “He’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“Good. Let’s go, ladies.”

& & & & & &

Steve stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, hands pillowed behind his head. He listened to the sound of the ocean, trying to relax enough to fall asleep on his last night here.

He didn’t want to leave, but he had to get back. There was further testing to be done, if the problems with the XJ-1941 could be worked out. Or maybe he’d join Hal in the Rim until a new model was ready for testing. 

Maybe that way, he could forget the fate he was leaving Diana to endure.

He sighed. Why couldn’t he have just enjoyed his time here instead of falling in…?

“Steve.”

He looked over at the doorway and saw Diana clad in a simple white chiton.

“Hi.” He smiled. “I want to thank your mother again for a delicious farewell dinner.”

Diana glided to the foot of the bed. “I am sorry to see you go.”

Steve’s heart speeded up. “Thank you, Ang…Diana.” She was an Angel, who had saved his life, but he felt uncomfortable using it like some john bestowing some hooker’s name on his companion. “I’m sorry to go.” As she still stood at the foot of his bed, he thought he detected worry in her eyes. “Don’t be concerned about Carlin. I made sure he’ll be transferred off the Island right away. His type would take petty revenge.” 

Diana moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She touched his arm, looking at him with an unreadable expression, then started to slip off her _chiton._

“Whoa,” Steve said as he grasped her am. “Diana, I don’t consider you a…I don’t expect you to…”

She put a finger to his lip. “Hush, Steve Trevor. Out of all the men I have been forced to give my body to these many centuries, you are the only one I choose to give it to.”

Stunned, Steve watched as Diana shed her chiton, revealing a body worthy of a Goddess.

“Di…Diana…”

Diana put her hands on his face. “I feel something very strong for you, Steve. I have seen your shining soul. You are not like the other men who visit Paradise.”

Steve’s heart pounded as he looked into her beautiful eyes. “I…feel the same way about you. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known before.”

She smiled as she began to undress him. “It was Destiny, you falling out of the sky to me.” 

She kissed him and he groaned, “Angel.”

& & & & & &

Steve awoke, amazed at his good fortune as Diana sleep peacefully in his arms. The morning sunlight streamed in through the Palace windows, gilding his Angel’s skin. 

Images flashed before his eyes:

& & & & & &

 _…her grace and beauty as she leaned over him, breasts brushing his face and inviting him to suckle, and his hands on her hips as she stroked his hair and face, moaning with pleasure. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, strong thighs straddling him, and he could feel her wetness as his cock grew ready._

_She kissed and stroked and he couldn’t get enough of her, and they loved and sighed and cried, Steve gently pushing into her and she eagerly welcoming him, fingers clutched in his hair as she rode him up and down, his hips thrusting up, and he **wanted** her so much, but he **loved** her even more, and the sound of the sea crashed into the room as moonlight shimmered through the gauzy hangings around the bed that she unfurled, their silhouettes moving behind the curtains, and she whispered, “Beloved,” as she came…_

& & & & & &

 _I really do love her._

Diana had been skillful, but love had softened her touch. He knew the foolishness of falling in love with a slave, and besides, how could he afford to purchase her?

It was all impossible, but he wanted to cling to this moment.

“Beloved,” murmured Diana.

“Ah, you’re awake, Angel.” He kissed her hair.

She smiled happily. “I like that.” She nuzzled his neck.

Steve smiled, too. He allowed himself to enjoy this moment, his heart swelling with joy.

They kissed tenderly, Diana settling back down in Steve’s embrace. She gently caressed his chest.

“You still must leave?”

“I’m sorry.” His stomach knotted at the thought of what he was leaving her to suffer, her chain links cold on his skin.

She kissed his chest. “I am, too.”

Steve closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over him.

& & & & & &

“Goodbye, Major Trevor. We hope to see you again.”

“I hope to return, Your Majesty.” Steve kissed Hippolyta’s hand.

A slight sadness shadowed her slightly-glazed eyes at his form of address, but she knew it was made out of respect and not mockery.

After the Queen had left the Throne Room, Diana said, “I wish the same thing.”

Steve smiled, albeit a trifle sadly. He took her hand and squeezed it. “I plan to come back.”

“I look forward to that day.”

Steve drew her into a kiss.

& & & & & &

He left on an aircraft carrier, gazing at the beach where Diana stood, the waves swirling around her ankles.

“I’ll be back, Angel. I promise,” he whispered.

& & & & & &

Before he reached port, he learned of Hal’s disappearance. 


	32. Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again it’s Halloween Week in Gotham, and the gathering includes some battered survivors this year.

_All gather  
Together,  
Grateful  
To be   
Alive._

  


**Ancient Vulcan Spiritual  
Pre-Reform Vulcan 10th Century B.C.E.**

Alfred directed Brendan to put the luggage in the proper guest rooms, Steve grateful for his quiet efficiency. He wheeled Hal in, Bruce coming forward.

“Steve, Hal, wonderful to see you! What a miracle!”

Bruce embraced the wan pilot, Hal’s brown eyes sparkling. “Thanks for the greeting, Bruce.”

Bruce drew back, his hands on Hal’s shoulders. “We thought we’d lost you forever.”

“Nah, I’m like gum on your shoe. Can’t get rid of me.”

Bruce laughed. “I see your sense of humor is still intact.”

Steve put a hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Still a smart-ass.”

Bruce laughed again and hugged Steve, who returned the hug with a smile. “Well, that’s good to hear.” He swept his arm out. “We have an elevator here for your use.”

“Wow, this is great, Bruce.” Hal wheeled himself to the elevator. “It’ll sure make things easier.”

“We are here to serve.”

Clark and Dick appeared, and Hal said, “Hey, guys! Would you give me a wheel up to my room?”

“Sure!” Dick said, running around to the back of the wheelchair. “Is this an automatic chair?”

“Nope, the old-fashioned kind, kiddo.” Hall flexed his arms. “Need to keep in shape.”

Dick giggled. “Well, I’m strong enough to push you!”

Clark walked beside them as they entered the elevator.

“Steve, you coming?” Hal called.

“Right away, buddy.” 

Steve hurried to join the group as the elevator doors closed.

Alfred came down the staircase. “Ah, so our guests are in good hands.”

“Very, Alfred.” 

Alfred hurried to the front door. “Your other guests are arriving.”

Bruce nodded and turned to greet them as Alfred opened the door.

“Bruce!”

“Lex!” Bruce heartily embraced his old friend. “You look great.”

“Clean living,” Lex smirked. Jamie was right behind him, carrying two suitcases.

”I’m sorry you had to take a cab.”

Lex waved his hand negligently. “Not a problem. We had an opportunity to take an earlier train so we grabbed it.” Lex glanced upstairs. “Who beat us in?”

“Hal and Steve.”

“How’s Hal look?”

“Not bad, considering. Steve looks more worn out!”

Lex grinned. “Ah, the rigors of young love.”

Bruce laughed. “Yes, well, it was pretty scary there for awhile.” He said to Jamie, “We’ll take the elevator so you won’t have to lug those suitcases up the stairs.”

& & & & & &

Two hours later, Dick glanced out the front window. “Alfred, the Queens are here!”

“Get into place,” Alfred said briskly, and Dick quickly stood at the foot of the stairs, arms behind his back, ready to serve.

Bruce was already coming from the library. He took his own place in the foyer as the door knocker was applied, and Alfred opened the door with a grand gesture.

“Welcome, Lord Oliver and Mistress Dinah.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Ollie grinned. “Well, how’s my fellow Lord doing?”

“Just fine, Ollie.”

Bruce hugged both Ollie and Dinah, and Bruce smiled as he saw Melody.

“And how are you doing, Miss Melody?”

The little girl giggled. “Fine, m’lord.”

Dick flashed his friend a smile, then looked curiously at the redheaded boy hanging back a little.

“May I present Roy, my second Squire,” Ollie said, bringing the boy forward with a gentle hand on his back.

Roy lowered his head. “I am honored, Lord Wayne.”

Bruce smiled and lifted Roy’s chin up. “We are pleased to see you as part of the Queen Household, Squire Roy. My own Squire will help you get settled.”

Dick smiled brightly, Roy meeting his eyes. Dick’s smile grew even brighter, an answering one from the redhead.

Alfred gestured and Dick hurried forward, taking one of the numerous bags. He smiled up at Dinah, who caressed his hair before she followed Ollie up the grand staircase.

Melody hurried to catch up to her Mistress and the boys fell into step together up the stairs.

“This is some place,” Roy said as he hefted a bag.

“It sure is. It’s hundreds of years old,” Dick said proudly.

“Queens’ Castle is, too.” Roy looked around. “It’s brighter than this place, too.”

“Well, the Manor does all right in sunshine.”

Roy smiled. “I’m sure it does.” His eye lit up as he looked at the chandelier. “That’s awesome. It’s like a million lights!”

“Bigger than at the Castle?”

Roy chuckled. “Yep.” He glanced out the window. “Cool that you live by the ocean.”

“I’ll show you the beach later if we have time.”

Roy really looked happy at that suggestion, Dick filing the observation away. 

He helped Roy get settled, his new friend pleased at having a room of his own. He immediately looked out the window at the sparkling sea.

“One of the best things about the Manor,” Dick said cheerfully.

“The Castle is close by the sea, too. Guess I just got spoiled.”

Dick laughed. “That’s easy to get here.”

“So your Master’s a good one?”

Dick nodded vigorously. “The best.”

“Well…”

Dick grinned. “Tied with Mistress Dinah and Lord Oliver.”

Roy nodded in satisfaction.

“Need help unpacking?”

“Thanks.”

& & & & & &

Steve rested a hand on Hal’s chair. The brunette was the center of attention as the rapt audience of Bruce, Ollie, Dinah and Lex hung on his every word.

“They found me out cold next to the remains of my ship on this backwater asteroid. My oxygen was nearly kaput.” Hal grimaced. “I felt exhausted, like I’d run a marathon. I’d had some wild dreams.”

“Dreams?” Dinah asked.

“Yeah. I went through all kinds of crazy tests, fighting aliens and rescuing fire and flood victims, using a ring.”

“A ring?” Lex exclaimed.

Hal nodded. “It was green, and that was the color of the energy that shot out of it. I could make it in the shape of anything.” He laughed. “I made a boxing glove and knocked out an alien.”

Ollie grinned. “Boxing gloves are usually effective.”

Dinah slapped him on the thigh.

“It was so weird! Maybe close to oxygen deprivation triggered these dreams, but they were so vivid!”

“Well, at least the dreams didn’t injure you,” Dinah said.

“Yeah, my injuries were from the crash. I had some broken ribs and a twisted ankle, and plenty of bruises.” Hal frowned. “A general weakness seems to be a residue of something in the asteroid’s atmosphere. The docs said I should recover fully in time.”

Steve squeezed Hal’s shoulder.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back, buddy.” Ollie squeezed Hal’s knee. 

“Yes,” Lex added. “Though your dreams sound like what the Green Lantern Corps is supposed to do.”

Hal nodded. “I guess the old tales were in my subconscious while I hallucinated.” He grinned. “And when I came to, I found this one had been missing but ended up in Paradise!”

Steve joined in the laughter. “It wasn’t Paradise without you, dear.”

“Oh, a man after my own heart.”

Bruce noticed a shadow in Steve’s eyes. “So the Amazons took good care of you, my friend?”

“Very much so.”

“The Amazons were once great Warriors,” Dinah observed.

“They still could be, if they weren’t drugged.”

The undertone was bitter, but the group was distracted by Clark’s arrival with refreshments.

Bruce noticed and filed the observation away.


	33. House Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner party goes off well, and warmth lives in the Manor.

_"Good food, good company…what could be better?"_

  


**Sir Alec Newton  
British Man-Of-Letters  
1616 C.E.**

Bruce came out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel. Clark was taking aspirin, a towel slung around his waist.

“Headache?”

“A mild one. I want to head it off.”

“I can have Dick and Roy do the serving tonight.”

“I can handle it.” Clark swallowed the aspirin with a swig of water.

“Well, Jamie can help you.”

“With Alfred in charge, everything will go smoothly.”

“Seriously, Clark,” Bruce touched his arm, “I don’t want you to miss out on this week. If you feel ill…”

Clark looked at him with a small smile. “I promise that I’ll come and lie down.”

Bruce squeezed his arm gently. “Good. I trust you to take care of yourself tonight.”

Pleased, Clark smiled brighter and went into the bedroom to dress.

& & & & & &

Once Clark was dressed, he and Bruce went down into Cave, and a few minutes later, Dinah, Ollie, and Melody followed, Roy right behind him, green eyes agog.

“The Batcave!” He looked at everything, everyone smiling. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he  
asked his family accusingly.

“We wanted to see the look on your face,” Dinah laughed, and ruffled his hair.

Roy’s eyes grew even bigger. “Then you’re…you’re…” He looked at Bruce, then turned to Dick.

“That’s right, Speedy,” Dick smirked, ducking as Roy threw a playful punch.

Childish laughter drifted up to the rafters, bat wings fluttering.

& & & & & &

Carefully exiting the clock, the Arrows went outside for a quick breath of fresh air, Clark heading for the kitchen. Bruce went with him, discussed the menu with Alfred, then returned to the library, pausing in the doorway.

Steve was standing at the windows, his air that of a brooding man.

“Everything all right?” Bruce asked softly. “Hal okay?”

“Hal’s fine.” Steve continued staring out the window, Bruce coming up beside him.

“How about you?”

“Peachy.”

Again the bitterness. Bruce studied the classic profile as dusk gathered, a tiny pinpoint of light flashing from the lighthouse on Astor Island. 

“What happened in Paradise, Steve?”

Steve snorted. “Nothing but beautiful women as far as the eye could see. A once-proud warrior race reduced to whores for anyone with a fat wallet or a reward from the brass.”

Bruce winced. He had never been happy with the conquering of the Amazons. 

“You felt uncomfortable.”

“Very.” Steve crossed his arms. “I was ashamed of wearing my uniform.”

“We can’t be expected to approve of everything the Government does,” Bruce said gently.

“How about approve of nearly nothing?” 

“Steve…”

The blond sighed. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a very bad place right now.”

“You crashed, were upset by the goings-on on the Island, and came home to discover Hal missing. Then you were keeping vigil at his bedside.” Bruce squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You have a right to be worn out.”

“I guess so,” Steve smiled wanly.

“Would you like to skip dinner and rest?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m fine.” He turned away from the window. “I have to help get Hal ready.”

“You stay right here. I’ll have Dick help.”

“It’s okay, Bruce. It’s not a lot of trouble.”

“All right.”

& & & & & &

Up in their shared room, Hal was dressing. Steve smiled as he walked in. “I’d prefer you undressing.”

The brunette chuckled. “Can’t argue with that.”

With long-practiced ease, Steve helped Hal dress, their patter cheering the injured man up. Steve’s gentle touch soothed him, and despite his jaunty air, his nerves were jangled.

He hadn’t realized how much he depended on his dear friend and lover until this situation had come up. Usually sure of himself, his whole space experience had rattled him. He needed his Steve’s gentle presence.

“Okay, back in your chair…”

Hal noticed the forced joviality in Steve’s tone. He lightly grasped his companion’s arm. “Stevie, what’s the matter?”

“Just a little tired.”

“Damnit, and here I’m working you like a mule.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you rode me like one.”

Hal laughed. “That’s my Stevie.” His tone softened. “You’re my strength, Beautiful.”

Steve smiled and kissed the top of Hal’s head. “So glad to have you back, love.”

& & & & & &

Dinner was a sparkling affair with bone china and gold silverware, Clark and Jamie serving flawlessly. Bruce was extremely pleased: Alfred’s cooking was superb, as always; Clark was serving with a touch both elegant and modest, and Dick, Roy and Melody were cheerfully helping out in the kitchen.

The dining room gleamed under the great chandelier, the ancient sideboard, table and chairs lovingly-preserved in all their nineteenth-century grandeur.

The table setting was his family’s best china and silverware, engraved with the Wayne family crest. It was an exquisite set and had been cleaned and polished by his slaves, each of them eager to help Bruce put his best foot forward.

It was a moments like these in which he allowed himself to truly be the Lord of the Manor. His heritage washed over him, the responsibilities and privileges a part of him.

The Manor had sheltered his family since before the days of the Revolution and was steeped in family history. He was extremely proud of her heritage and reveled in the moment, hosting such fine men and women. He was very proud of the quality of his friends, because he considered everyone at the table a friend.

There was Ollie and Lex, of course, childhood friends who knew him well and who had grown up in the same rarified world, and now Ollie was part of his other life, too.

Dinah was a good friend, not just Ollie’s lover. He loved her wit and intelligence and she kicked ass as Black Canary.

Steve and Hal were daring soldiers who were bright and loyal, good men to know. He’d been very upset at their disappearances and was very glad to see them back, safe and sound.

He glanced at Steve. He wondered if the blond had confided in Hal about his time on the Island.

Hal was holding court, but Bruce noticed the lines around his eyes. He was tired but willing to put up a jovial front.

It would be a good idea to keep an eye on both of them.

& & & & & &

“Mmm, Alfred, these rolls are great.” Dick ate a piping-hot roll fresh from the oven.

“Dick, stop eating the dinner,” Alfred admonished but there was no bite to his words.

Dick grinned at Roy, who winked.

“Get the entrees ready. Clark and Jamie will be back in here before you know it.”

Dick and Roy scurried to follow Alfred’s bidding.

Clark and Jamie returned with empty soup bowls, stacking them by the sink. Every piece of sliver and chinaware had to be washed by hand, Alfred horrified at the thought of the turbowash for this heirloom set.

“Everything all right?” Alfred asked.

“Perfect, Alfred,” Clark said with a smile.

“Good, good.”

Silver trays were laden with entrees, and Clark and Jamie left the kitchen with the food.

Melody came in. “All the beds are turned down, Alfred.”

“Excellent, dear. Start on the dishes, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

The kitchen hummed like a well-oiled machine, and after dinner was served, the staff enjoyed their own dinner, Clark leaving periodically to serve coffee and cake in the library.

Alfred was happy in his domain. He was surrounded by young, energetic people who paid him the proper respect as an elder statesman. He was able to show off his culinary skills, and the house party was running smoothly.

Clark was in good health, able to serve, but Alfred kept an eye on him. Dick’s illness was, of course, illusory, but Clark’s disease could overwhelm with very little notice.

Melody, Roy, and Jamie seemed healthy, eager to serve and proud of their own Houses. 

Melody was chattering about the plans for the overhaul of the gardens at Queens’ Castle, Roy interjecting here and there, everyone enjoying the same food that the freemen had consumed.

Clark returned and smiled. “Your pumpkin cake is a hit, Alfred.”

“Sit down and eat, Clark. I’ll take the next round,” Jamie offered.

Clark sat next to his friend, the young Squires on the opposite side, Alfred at the head of the table.

“What’s the conversation in there, Clark?” asked Dick.

“Mostly about Halloween Week.”

Roy asked eagerly, “Is it really like a huge carnival?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dick nodded. “It’s like the midway, only bigger.”

“Melody says you come from a circus.”

“Yep,” Dick said as he took a bite of roast chicken. “The costumes here in Gotham remind me of the circus outfits.”

“We’re going to trick-or-treat?” Roy asked, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes!” Melody nearly bounced in her seat. “It’s so much fun, Roy!”

Clark, Jamie and Alfred smiled at the children’s enthusiasm.

Later, Jamie left to serve fresh coffee and returned with empty cake plates.

“As Clark said, a hit, Alfred.”

“Of course.”

Everyone grinned, and they all enjoyed the cake, too.

& & & & & &

As clean-up began, Clark staggered slightly when he started taking plates to the sink.

“Clark,” Alfred said quietly. “Perhaps you should go lie down.”

“I don’t want to leave everyone with the clean-up.”

“There are many hands here. No one would begrudge you a lie-down.” Alfred lifted the dark glasses and saw the pain in Clark’s eyes. “Headache?”

“Yes.”

Alfred slipped the glasses back down. “Go.”

Clark left, still feeling guilty, Dick watching him go with a worried expression. He whispered to Alfred, “Is Clark okay?”

“A headache.”

Jamie asked, “What’s wrong?”

Alfred gauged the other slaves in the room. “Master Bruce doesn’t publicize it, but Clark suffers from Wertham’s Disease.” Little gasps greeted this pronouncement. “It’s chronic and incurable.” Seeing the stricken looks he continued, “It does not mean that he is dying, so have no worries there. But he is frequently ill.” Alfred sighed. “Clark must rest. He would be very upset to miss this holiday week.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take up the slack,” Dick promised.

The children speeded up their assistance, wanting to help.

& & & & & &

Clark lay curled up under the covers. He was scared that his headache would grow to debilitating proportions and ruin the week.

The door quietly opened and he smiled, eyes still closed. “So is this Dick or Alfred or my generous Master?”

“Actually, it’s me.”

Clark opened his eyes in surprise. “Jamie.”

“That’s right.” Jamie removed his glasses. “I’m sorry about your illness.”

“Mmm.” Clark didn’t dare move his head to nod. “It’s not so bad most days.”

“Good.” Jamie smiled. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I just have to ride it out. Hopefully the headache won’t get worse and my nausea subsides.”

“Nothing helps your nausea?”

“Usually Saltine crackers and ginger ale, but not after I ate all that wonderful food of Alfred’s.” Clark’s smile was wan. “Don’t get the idea that Alfred’s cooking did this.”

Jamie grinned. “Definitely not.” He lightly touched Clark’s forehead. “You’re running a fever.” 

“Low-grade.” Clark closed his eyes. “The fever comes and goes.”

“Hmm, your body fighting off the infection.”

“Mmm.”

Jamie patted Clark’s shoulder. “Rest is best, of course. If you need anything, I’d be happy to…”

“Clark.”

Jamie turned and saw the Lord of the Manor stride into the room, worry in his eyes. 

Clark smiled. “Just a headache, Master.”

Bruce laid a hand on Clark’s forehead, biting his lip. “Upset stomach?”

“A little.”

“Would you like ginger ale and crackers?”

“Maybe later.”

Bruce caressed Clark’s silky hair. “Rest, my…Prize.”

Jaime was certain that Bruce had been going to say another word, and he suspected what it might be, but he carefully kept such thoughts to himself.

“No more duties for you tonight. Dick and Alfred will see to our guests.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

Bruce continued stroking. “It’s all right. These things can’t be helped.” He noticed that Clark was still dressed. “Here, let’s get you into pajamas for the night.”

Jamie put his glasses back on and helped Bruce get Clark into his pajamas.

Bruce tenderly ministered to his slave, obviously worried over Clark. No matter how many times this had happened, Bruce could still be shaken.

Jamie was pleased to see that. Clark was in good hands.

“I would be more than happy to help out, m’lord.”

Bruce looked at him, then smiled. “Thank you.”

Jamie knew that Lex would not object. Bruce tugged the covers over Clark, his slave sighing, and his Master said quietly, “Sleep now.” He spoke with one last caress, then he and Jamie let the room.

“I’m sorry, m’lord, I meant no harm. I was just checking on your Prize.”

“It’s all right.” Bruce laid a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him. Usually Alfred and Dick would do so but they’ll be busy with my guests.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bruce squeezed Jamie’s shoulder and went downstairs, glancing back at the closed bedroom door, and Jamie headed for his own room. He would check on Clark in a little while.

& & & & & &

Later, after Hal and Steve had turned in early and Lex had said goodnight and went upstairs to join Jamie, Ollie winked at Dick and Roy, who had come into the library.

“Ready for patrol?”

The boys grinned.


	34. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Speedy work well together. Patrol is cut short for Batman and Robin.

_"When the heart speaks,  
You must listen."_

  


**Dame Judith Eddington  
"English Boxwood   
And Other Poems"   
1906 C.E.**

“Race ya!”

“You got it!”

Robin and Speedy flew over the rooftops, eager to test themselves against each other, and their mentors laughed, even Batman smiling indulgently. Below them the sound of revelry drifted up from the streets. 

“Your Speedy seems well-suited to this life.”

“Thank you, dear,” Black Canary said.

Green Arrow grinned. “Kid’s got nothing on William Tell. He can knock an apple off your head at twenty paces.”

A Bat eyebrow lifted. “Much call for that sort of thing in Star City?”

The Canary laughed as Green Arrow snorted. “Whaddaya know, the Bat made a funny! Careful, Dark One, you’ll ruin your rep.” 

Batman flew off in a swirl of cape, the Canary and Arrow grinning, and they quickly followed.

& & & & & &

Keen eyes spotted a purse-snatching without the owner being aware of it. Batman and Green Arrow nodded at their protégés and Robin and Speedy eagerly swooped down upon the thief in an alley. Robin’s heart pounded with excitement as he flew, Speedy right next to him. 

“Hey!” yelled the thief, a whoosh of air expelled from his chest as young legs slammed into him. He rolled on the ground but Robin grabbed the purse and Speedy pinned his sleeve with an arrow. 

“You fuckin’ kids! I’ll kick your asses!” 

“Good work, boys,” Green Arrow said as he and Batman leaped down on their decel lines. The thief quieted when he saw the Bat, who loomed over him. Green Arrow polished a sharp-tipped arrow.

Robin and Speedy grinned, and the redhead yanked out the arrow. 

“Go ahead and take him to the policeman on the corner,” Batman said, and Robin and Speedy hauled the thief to his feet. The man kept glancing back at Batman and didn’t attempt an escape.

“Officer!” Robin called as the sounds of revelry were loud and raucous.

The policeman turned and smiled. “Hey, Robin! And is this Speedy, from Star City?”

“Yes, sir!” answered Speedy.

“What have you got here?”

“A petty thief!” Robin declared.

The thief growled. “I’m _not_ petty.”

& & & & & &

“Yep, the boys work smoothly together,” Green Arrow said, Black Canary leaning against the alley wall.

“Very good.” Batman watched as the policeman handcuffed the thief and called in the arrest, smiling at the boys. Robin and Speedy dashed back into the alley. 

“Let’s go,” Batman said, and they all took off over the rooftops.

& & & & & &

Robin was happy. Halloween was his favorite holiday, and he had a new friend. He and Speedy were on the same page, working together and enjoying a friendly rivalry. He had been excited taking down that thief with Speedy at his side. They were out ahead of the adults and as they leaped to the next roof, Robin asked, “Do you like Star City?”

Speedy nodded. “It’s not bad. Not as crazy as Gotham, but we’ve got our share of nutcases.”

Robin grinned. “Green Arrow and Black Canary are fun to be with.”

“They are. They’ve given me…” Speedy hesitated “…a home.”

Robin knew some of Speedy’s history and gave his arm a quick squeeze, then he said, “Bet I reach the next roof before you!”

“Oh, no, you don’t!”

Robin laughed as Speedy burst into hot pursuit.

& & & & & &

All five heroes gathered at the Clock Tower, watching the celebration.

“Isn’t this the coolest ever?” Robin did a handstand on the roof’s edge. Bruce had to restrain his natural instinct to pull the boy back, but his young partner had better balance then he did. “I love Halloween! I love the costumes.”

“There sure are some clever ones.” Green Arrow put a boot up on the edge.

Black Canary rested her arm on his shoulder, bending one leg. “We fit right in, eh?”

Green Arrow smiled and kissed her cheek. “Absolutely, Pretty Bird.”

“Mushy,” Speedy snorted.

Robin laughed, and even Batman smiled.

The Clock Tower struck one. Batman restlessly pulled his cape around himself, and Green Arrow said, “You know, Bats, we Arrows can keep things under control if you’d like to knock off early.”

Robin threw a look at Batman, who gripped his cape tighter. Raucous revelry drifted up from the street.

“Good. Robin, let’s go.”

Robin flashed a farewell smile and followed his mentor off the roof.

“Why the earl exit, G.A.?” Speedy asked.

“The Bat’s mind is elsewhere.”

Comprehension dawned in Speedy’s eyes, and Black Canary put her arm around his shoulders.

& & & & & &

“I thought I heard you cry out.”

Clark looked up at Jamie with bleary eyes. “I…I might have.”

“It’s okay.” Jamie sat on the bed. “My Master’s asleep. No one else is up, either.”

“Good.” Clark’s voice was very weak. “I hate to disturb anyone.”

Jamie brushed unruly hair back from Clark’s eyes. “I don’t think Alfred and Dick would mind helping you while your Master entertains his guests.” He cocked his head. “Though they’re awfully quiet.”

Clark struggled to sit up. “Master Bruce enjoys showing off the gardens by moonlight. They’re probably outside.”

Jamie looked out at the moonlit ocean. “That would be lovely.” He grinned. “The Queens are night owls, hmm?” 

“Hmm?”

“Well, my Master and I retired pretty late, and so did the majors, yet your Master is still entertaining?”

“Maybe the Queens went to bed and Master Bruce is on the phone to Hong Kong. He had a big deal cooking.”

“Oh, I understand the ways of big deals.”

Clark smiled slightly. “I just bet you do.”

Jamie laughed. “Such is the life of we who serve the rich and famous.”

“True.”

“I’m sorry. You need your rest.”

“It’s okay. Talking sometimes helps.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Call if you do.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” Clark moved fretfully, trying to grab the covers.

Jamie pulled them up and patted Clark’s shoulder, leaving him in peace.

As he walked back to the guest room, he wondered where Bruce was. Clark had offered some good explanations but Jamie wasn’t quite convinced.

It _was_ very quiet downstairs, but at this hour, everyone should be asleep.

_Maybe Bruce Wayne is just quirky._

But with his pleasure slave so ill, wouldn’t he have stuck around to care for him?

_He doesn’t strike me as the callous type, not after I saw him with Clark earlier this evening, but who knows?_

Still, Jamie was certain he’d seen something between Clark and Bruce beyond mere Master and slave.

Shrugging, Jamie decided to get back to bed.

& & & & & &

Batman put the Batmobile in gear, the smooth ride quiet as it glided along the country roads. Robin sat quietly in the passenger seat, then put his hand on Batman’s arm. Batman smiled down at him.

The Batmobile came into the Cave, and the Dynamic Duo showered and changed, still silent but both worried.

Dick followed Bruce into the bedroom, Clark asleep under the covers. Relieved, Dick hugged Bruce goodnight and went off to bed.

Bruce slipped off his robe and climbed into bed, Clark stirring awake.

“Mmm, Bruce. What time is it?”

“One o’clock.”

“You’re early.” He frowned. “The city’s unguarded?”

“The Arrows are quite capable of taking over patrol.” Bruce’s hands rubbed Clark’s shoulders.

“Are you sure? You don’t let people take over your city’s safety like that.”

“I have obligations at home, too.”

Worry clouded Clark’s eyes. “Bruce, you can’t...”

“Shh.” Bruce caressed Clark’s face. “My family is important to me. My Mission is important, but not as much as you.”

Tears brimmed in Clark’s eyes. “Bruce…”

“Hush.” Bruce kissed him. “Go back to sleep. I’m here now.”

Clark snuggled into Bruce’s embrace, sighing happily.


	35. An Iron Fist In A Red Velvet Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lionel and Edmund have an interesting conversation over lunch.

_"Evil can be packaged in the most mundane wrappings, but never fear: it is there, lurking and ready to pounce."_

  


**Jexelle Mantell  
Rigellian Philosopher   
1066 B.C.E.**

“Ahh, Halloween Week in Gotham. Nothing like it.”

Lionel looked up at the cultured voice. “Hello, Edmund.”

“May I join you?”

“Certainly.”

The older man sat down, resting his cane by the chair. Lionel’s waitress came over, taking Edmund’s drink order. As she walked away, he focused on her pert behind.

“Pity she’s not manacled,” he said with a regretful sigh.

“What, you can’t get a free waitress?”

At Lionel’s smirk, Edmund’s eyes gleamed. “It’s certainly more challenging than bedding a slave whore.”

“True. The power issues are exciting with slaves, but freemen-and-women make you work for it.”

“Mmm.” Edmund scanned the menu. “So, are you staying at the Manor? Your son is tight with Bruce.”

“No, I’m just here for the day. I had an important meeting. You just taking in the sights?”

Edmund smirked. “Plenty of those.”

“Gotham is certainly exciting at this time of year.”

“Any time, actually. They just dress it up more during Halloween.”

Lionel drank his wine. He had been enjoying a solitary lunch but didn’t like the idea of refusing Edmund Caldwell. Of all his business associates…

…Edmund was the only one he feared. 

As he ate his swordfish, he reflected on how many people would be surprised at that. Ruthless Lionel Luthor afraid of an old man?

_Depends on the old man._

“So, successful?”

“Excuse me?” Lionel asked.

“I said, was your business venture successful?”

“Oh, very.” Lionel ate a forkful of rice. “I’m in the mood to celebrate. Can you recommend the best brothel in town?” He already knew the answer but it never hurt to flatter. 

_“The Red Velvet Swing._ The quality of the whores there is positively Parisian.”

“Or Rigellian, I’ve heard.”

Edmund waved his hand. “The Rigellians make a lot of noise about their slave tradition, but we’ve got a fine one here, too.” 

“The Orions have the wildest slaves, especially those green slave girls.” Lionel drank more wine. “But we certainly have established our own laws and traditions.”

The waitress brought Edmund’s entrée, deftly avoiding his groping hand.

“Anything else, sirs?”

“No, thank you,” Lionel said, hoping to get her out of the line of fire.

After she left, Edmund cut his roast beef and took a bite. “Mmm, quality.” He sipped his wine. “Just like the whores at the _Swing.”_

“Thank you for the recommendation, Edmund.” He was already mentally running down the list of possible companions for the evening.

“So what do you think of young Bruce being an Abo?”

“What?” Startled out of his contemplation of considerable charms, he was adrift for a moment.

“Surely you’ve seen his disgusting campaign for freeing whores.”

“I don’t think he has advocated taking off the manacles.”

Lionel buttered a wheat roll, hazel eyes watching Edmund. He had to stay on his toes around the old man.

“Of course he has. He’s being clever about it, but he’s pushing it.”

“So?”

“So?” Edmund balanced his wineglass. “Have you had too much of this?”

Lionel smiled. “He can speak all he wants. It won’t change anything.”

“If people had sense, I would agree with you.”

Lionel ate his roll. “You think people have lost their heads?”

“You know how it goes. The bleeding-hearts wail and cry, get people sobbing, pull in the Hollywood types…they’ll kick up a fuss with those fools in Congress.”

“Careful, some of those are _our_ fools.” 

Edmund chuckled in acknowledgment. “Still, some are idealists. That redhead is emerging as one of the leaders of the Abos.”

“Redhead? Oh, you mean Lana lang.”

“Yes.” Edmund sighed. “Great legs and ass, but a stubborn streak. Pity she isn’t manacled. I’d enjoy breaking her.”

_No doubt._

Lionel speared a piece of chive-sprinkled baked potato. “I’d just let it lie, Edmund. We get little flare-ups from the liberals all the time. It’ll pass like always.”

“As I said, I’d agree with you if people weren’t such fools. If the Abos gain enough steam…”

”…the Government will crush them.”

“You’re probably right.” Edmund looked appreciatively at his roast beef. “I mean, can you really envision a world in which shameless whores are given the same rights as freemen?”

“Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

Edmund snorted. _“Highly_ unlikely.” He picked a roll out of the basket and cut it open. “All slaves are whores, some more than others. The bedwarmers are the worst. I can’t see decent people ever associating with such creatures even if they were freed.”

“Well, I doubt we’ll ever find out.”

“Better hope not. Your profits would plummet for sure if you had to pay wages to every worker instead of just the free ones.”

“We’d manage.” Lionel smiled. “Some companies don’t use slaves, including Wayne Enterprises.”

Edmund snorted. “Foolishness, of course.”

”I’ve found slaves to be quite useful in business.”

“They make great gifts.”

Lionel laughed. “They do, but I was talking more about assets.”

“Slaves are certainly good for menial labor.”

Lionel smiled slightly. “I was talking about intelligence.”

“Intelligence!” scoffed Edmund. “We’re talking slaves here.”

“Some are intelligent.”

“Some are _crafty,_ my friend. There’s a difference.”

Lionel laughed. “Perhaps. But using slaves as accountants or receptionists help the bottom line. Just because the Prince of Gotham chooses not to…”

A hiss cut off Lionel, fire sparking from Edmund’s eyes. _“Prince!”_ His hand curled into a fist. “He’s no Prince, my friend, anymore than the poseur Oliver Queen who lives on an estate he calls a castle!” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Bruce Wayne puts on airs as if he’s the King of England. His family wasn’t the _only_ Founding Family of Gotham. Mine was here at the same time, too.”

Lionel schooled his face to remain neutral. Edmund’s vitriol was a little surprising. He knew that Edmund had a strong dislike for Bruce but hadn’t been aware of the depth of his enmity.

It was useful knowledge, but he preferred that Edmund not know that.

“Your family is certainly one of the oldest and finest in America. It could be that the tragedy of the Waynes makes their surviving son more of a tragic and attractive figure.”

“Sometimes he uses that in a rather cold-blooded way.”

Interest piqued, Lionel asked, “How so?”

“He plays the ‘poor little rich boy’ a little too often, using that tragedy to his advantage on the social scene.”

Lionel was skeptical but kept that opinion to himself. He didn’t always agree with the young Wayne, but he highly doubted that Lex’s old friend was doing what Edmund claimed. He had seen the pain in Bruce’s eyes at the mention of his parents.

”He’s a shallow, arrogant young man,” Edmund pontificated.

“Ah, weren’t we all at that age?”

Edmund didn’t reply, concentrating on his carrots, but Lionel was not fooled. The old man’s mind was working. Lionel just hoped that he could stay out of the line of fire.

Edmund savored the fresh vegetables, then said, “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Lionel?”

“Soft?” Genuinely puzzled, Lionel picked up his wineglass. “How so?”

“You seem eager to defend the slave-loving Bruce Wayne.”

“I’m sure he takes advantage of his pleasure slave quite often.”

Edmund snorted. “Whores are a dime-a-dozen.”

“This whore seems especially talented.” 

“No doubt. Most sluts are.”

“Servicing his Master with his body _is_ his job.”

Edmund’s lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “I’m sure he does it well.”

Lionel felt a little shiver go down his spine. “I’m sure,” he said, hastily taking a drink.

“Your son has a new bedslut, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, a fine Prize. He’ll probably be keeping him.”

“What a bore that must be! Always fucking the same piece of meat. I prefer a variety, myself.”

 _Mainly because you damage them so badly, you need replacements._

“What can I say? The boy’s sentimental.”

“Have you sampled the whore yet?”

A bit surprised himself, Lionel answered, “No.”

“What, and with your reputation of being a connisseur of slave flesh?”

Lionel thought of the one time he’d almost poached on his son’s Prize and wondered why he hadn’t tried again.

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Care to lend me the slut?”

“He’s not my slut to lend.”

“Is your son that attached to him?”

“I think my son prefers not to share his toys.”

“You were remiss in teaching him the basics.”

Lionel grinned. “Yes, I must admit to failure in that area.”

Edmund’s expression was dreamy. “Imagine enjoying a good time with your son’s slut and that Wayne whore. All that smooth skin, just waiting to be marked…”

Lionel uneasily set his fork down. Slave mutilation always made him queasy. Despite his own appetites, he never deliberately set out to hurt those who gave him pleasure. He was no saint, but he was not a monster.

Edmund Caldwell was a sadist who held the helpless in his iron grip.

Lionel was glad that he was finished with his meal. His stomach was knotting up.

“So, will you be staying in town after your pleasure tonight?” Edmund asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s certainly an interesting time in Gotham.”

If Lionel _did_ stay, he hoped that he could avoid Edmund.

The man made his skin crawl.

“And what about you? Enjoying the festivities?”

“My family and I will be partaking in many…pleasures…this week.” Edmund’s smile chilled Lionel. “After Halloween, we’ll be heading to our place up in the mountains. The lake is beautiful this time of year.” 

“Isn’t it rather cold?”

“We don’t go to swim at this time of year. Just…family time.” Edmund’s voice grew conspiratorial. “It’s so isolated from other cabins in the woods that no one can hear you…scream.”

Lionel took a sip of wine, hoping that Edmund didn’t notice his shaking hand. 

“Well, you seem to have a full schedule. As for myself, I’d better get to the Swing before it’s all booked up for the evening. If you’ll excuse me…” He rose.

Edmund saluted him with his wineglass, amusement sharp in his eyes. “Have fun.”

Lionel forced himself to walk away at a leisurely pace, though his mind was screaming, _Run!_

He would have to advise Lex to keep a closer eye on Jamie, especially in these crowds.

Behind him, Edmund chuckled as he cut another piece of meat.


	36. Darkness Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame Zee’s predictions are of Rainbows of Light…and coming Darkness.

_Rainbows  
Swirl,  
Twist,  
Sparkle._

_Clutch  
At their  
Ephemeral  
Grace._

_Seek  
The one  
Rainbow  
Of Freedom._

_Before the  
Darkness falls._

  


**The Freedom Chronicles  
2363 C.E.**

Steve smiled as he pushed Hal’s wheelchair. Dick looked ready to cartwheel and Roy and Melody were equally excited.

Well, he couldn’t blame them. The street fair in Gotham during Halloween Week was exciting. The smell of fried dough and grilled sausage carried on the clear night air, stars sparkling overhead.

The vendors’ tents glittered with sequins and bright colors, pennants snapping in the breeze. Hawkers called at the crowds, trying to entice customers to sample their wares.

Dinah was as delighted as the children, bright-eyed and sparkling. She laughed as she put her arm around Ollie’s waist. Bruce and Lex walked with their pleasure slaves, and the entire party was enjoying a good time.

As he pushed Hal along, Steve watched a dark-haired belly dancer jangle and jingle as she moved in gold and silks, giving prospective customers a sample.

He stopped walking abruptly.

“Diana…” he said softly.

The Amazon smiled at him as she swirled her veils, turning around in a whirl of color. She turned back, and she was once again the original dancer.

“Stevie?”

Hal was looking up at him. Steve quickly smiled and resumed pushing. “Having fun?” 

Hal’s voice was contemplative. “Great time. You?”

“You know this is my favorite time of year.”

Hal was facing forward again as they trailed their group. “You had another dream last night.”

“Everyone has dreams.”

“You sounded upset.”

“You know dreams are weird.”

“Was it the crash again? You were yelling, ‘No!’”

“Eh, you know soldiers have memories we’d rather forget.”

Hal said nothing further, for which Steve was grateful.

“Ah, Madame Zee,” said Bruce, stopping at the glittering black-and-yellow striped tent with the sign proclaiming palm and Tarot readings. “Any takers?”

“I’ll go.” Steve stepped forward, heart pounding. He needed answers. Maybe Madame Zee could provide them.

“All yours.”

Steve entered the tent, recognizing the familiar hangings and art on the canvas walls. The rich colors soothed him, and he stood in front of the table covered in dark-blue silk with gold tassels. The pewter dragon’s ruby eyes winked in the light of an old-fashioned oil lantern, coiled as the base for the crystal ball.

He breathed in the patchouli scents, trying to calm his racing pulse. He wished he could get rid of these jitters.

“Welcome, Major.”

Steve jumped. “Oh, hello, Madame Zee.”

“Please have a seat.”

Steve sat in the black, lacquered chair, glad that the fortuneteller could not see his hands, which were knotted up in his lap.

Zee was dressed as she always was: in the traditional costume of peasant blouse and voluminous skirt, the blouse squash-colored and the skirt a deep blue. Bracelets and necklaces jingled as she moved, huge gold hoop earrings swinging from her ears. She wore a blue bandanna patterned with yellow stars over long, blond hair.

“Let us begin.”

Zee shuffled the Tarot cards. “Your Path has grown since last we met, Major.” She frowned slightly. “Your journey…you’ve met a Priestess.” 

“A Princess, actually.”

“Close enough.” Her slight smile amused Steve. “I see…a Trinity.”

“A Trinity?”

Zee’s bracelets jangled as she set down more cards. “One in your future.”

“How?”

Zee frowned again. “The cards are being opaque.” She gathered them up and set them aside. “We will try the ball.”

Steve watched as she passed her hand over the crystal ball, rainbow mists beginning to appear. Her eyes closed, sinking into the state of mind necessary to her divination. 

_“Blue…sea…air…white star in the sky…abyss…pain…the whipping post…bracelets…golden eagle…stars and stripes forever…”_

Steve’s eyes widened. He saw misty shapes coalescing, breaking apart, ribbons of sparkles twisting and turning, rainbow colors filling the ball.

 _“...there is only one Freedom’s Rainbow…”_ her voice grew even softer _“…blood of warriors mixed with bringers of peace…suffering…break the chains…the golden eagle soars with the silver star and emerald stone…free thy people!…serenity covers all…like a pink cloud falling…covers gently…wispy cotton candy…rainbow…rainbow…”_

The Gypsy stopped, opening her eyes. “A Great Love.” She looked at Steve. “Your soulmate…Trinity…”

“What is this Trinity?”

She pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry; this isn’t an exact science.”

“I…I know.” Steve unclenched his fits. “Of course it isn’t.”

She looked at him sympathetically. “I would say that a new turn in your life has occurred.” Her eyes were shrewd. “You met the dark-haired woman of whom I spoke the last few years.”

“You’d be right.” He had remembered that when he’d arrived in Gotham with a fluttery feeling in his stomach.

“It troubles you?”

“This world troubles me.”

The fortuneteller sat back. “This universe is not a kind one.”

“Well, it’s the only one we have.”

Her eyes flickered. “Destiny is not always easy.”

“You believe in Destiny?”

“There are certain things that will be.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

Steve sighed. “You could be right.” He rose. “Thank you, Madame Zee.” He paid her and started to leave.

“Oh, Major?”

“Yes?”

“Send in the Prince.”

He smiled slightly. “Certainly.”

Once outside, Steve was met with teasing, and he responded in kind, hiding his inner turmoil. “Madame Zee is insightful, witty, charming…unlike you guys.”

Laughter and more teasing answered him, and he said playfully, “Hey, Prince, Madame Zee wants you next.”

“Oh, ho, then let the Prince go.” Ollie bowed and Dina curtsied, Bruce grinning. He waved his hand airily.

“In I go. Thank you, peasants.” 

Lex put his arm around Dick and drew Clark to him by tugging gently on the arm to stand beside him. Satisfied that his slaves were protected, Bruce went inside the tent.

“Welcome, Prince Bruce.”

Bruce inclined his head, acknowledging the respect. He sat down in the chair that Steve had just vacated, curious to hear this year’s reading.

Zee shuffled the cards, laying them out one-by-one. “I see…a contentment in you…and joy even greater than last I saw you…”

Bruce thought of Clark and Dick and nodded.

“You will know joy and…” she frowned. “…there is a Darkness coming…a Great Trial…testing your mettle and those you love…”

Bruce tensed, then forced himself to relax. This was all so vague. His life with filled with trials and tribulations.

“…beware the green wood…”

“The forest?”

“Perhaps.” Zee studied the cards. “Hmm, I think we should go to the ball.”

Bruce watched the mists begin to swirl as her hand moved over it, bracelets jingling. Rainbow colors began to sparkle, Bruce fascinated as always.

“There are many rainbows, but only one Freedom’s Rainbow.”

“What does that mean?”

A smile played around Zee’s lips. “Rainbows are ribbons of light and possibility, but Freedom requires only one.”

Oh, well, he’d asked.

Zee laughed. “I know, all very mystical. Sorry, dear Prince, but I can only tell what I see.” Her eyes grew dreamy as she gazed at the crystal ball.

_Jingle, jingle._

_“You lived in darkness…for many years…the pain of loss…shocking, terrifying, numbing….rage, a hollowness…the emptiness grows, the rage never lessens…until rainbows come into your life….sweet and sure and a Great Destiny awaits you…”_

Bruce’s stomach tightened, remembering his great loss…he listened as the soft voice washed over him, smoothing away some of the pain.

_I already have met my Destiny. The Bat was it, ultimately._

After his parents’ murders, it had been inevitable.

_“…the Rainbow cleaves…Darkness spills over…engulfing, smothering…more pain…more…”_

Zee abruptly stopped. She pulled her hand away from the ball, distress on her features. 

“What Darkness?” Bruce felt a little foolish, but he was worried by her dire predictions.

_But that’s all they are. Predictions. No one can tell the future._

“I’ll try again.”

The mists grew brighter, almost eye-aching. Bruce tried to make out what Zee saw, but if she truly had a gift, it didn’t translate to him.

“A Great Trial…my Prince, are you ready to face true evil?”

He thought of the Joker and other forces of darkness. “I am.”

“Good. You will need great strength, great courage.” The mists began to fade, leaving the crystal clear. “Wear thy armor. _Protect.”_

As Bruce merged from the tent, he shivered in the clear night air.

Clark came up to him. “Is everything all right, Master?” he asked softly.

Bruce looked at Clark and grasped his hand, squeezing tightly.

“As long as I have you.”

Clark’s smile was a blaze of sunshine in the evening darkness.

Bruce saw the happily chattering Dick with Melody and Roy.

He would protect his family with everything he had.


	37. Mists Of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Milky Way Galaxy finally emerge from backwater status?

_Rainbow mists,  
Swirling,  
Whirling,  
Sparkling,  
Shining._

_Divine  
Its heart,  
And know  
The future,  
If you can._

  


**Alyce Grimmoire  
"The Book Of Shadows"  
1963 C.E.**

The large room was designed amphitheater-style, banks of seats circling the room. A circular platform occupied the center, a small break in the rows allowing access.

The room was filling up with observers, long robes swishing silkily as they moved. Murmurs of conversation flowed, then died down as a statuesque men in a scarlet robe appeared, followed by two other men in similar robes, and a brunette woman in a dark-blue robe with yellow signs of the Zodiac painted on it. Her jewelry jangled as she walked.

The tallest man raised a hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased at your presence.” Silk rustled as people inclined their heads. “As we know, the forces of change are approaching quickly. Events are moving, and the Milky Way Galaxy may finally lose its backwater status and be ready to truly join the Universe.”

Heads nodded, and a hand went up. “Sire Opar, have there been new developments?”

Opar nodded. “Guardians of Oa, I present Sire Ojjix.”

The other blue-skinned man cued the lowering of a large viewscreen.

“We tested our potential new Green Lantern for Sector 2814. Terran Hal Jordan was the candidate.”

The viewscreen showed Hal in a skintight dark-green uniform, not the official uniform of the Green Lantern Corps but just as aerodynamic. A green glow emanated from a ring on his gloved finger.

Hal met a parade of foes, some monstrous, alien, or simulated Terrans. He used the ring with mental quickness.

“What training did he have?” asked an audience member.

“Very little. Also, he was in a dream-like state, but his instincts were true.”

As Hal brought down a huge, three-headed monster, murmurs of appreciation went up.

”His willpower is formidable. We plucked him from his mission on the Outer Rim. We put him back, his memory intact, except he believes it all to be dreams.”

“Why not offer him the ring now?”

“It is not yet time.” Ojjix bowed to the woman. “Madame Zatanna, your report.”

Zatanna bowed in return. She lifted her hand. _“Nigeb wohs.”_

The screen lit with rainbow mists, shadows and shapes forming, breaking apart, and re-forming.

“Through mystic forces, I have foreseen the great changes. For the past several years I have been traveling the target Galaxy, trying to better divine the agents of change.

“Krypton would have been a prime candidate, but exploded over two decades ago. The survivors are ruthlessly hunted down and killed.”

Murmurs of “barbarism” and “backwards species” went around the room.

“The Empire is violent, cruel, and oppressive, yet peace and prosperity have reigned on most of the member planets for at least a generation. Small brush wars crop up from time-to-time but are crushed by Government forces. The last major war outside of the Empire was nearly a hundred years ago with the warmongering Kadorans.

“The Galactic Empire has continued its predecessor’s mission of exploration. The Federation was a peaceful and prosperous Government, but was brought down by forces from within.”

Zatanna’s bracelets jangled as she gestured. “Slavery began spreading across the Galaxy, facilitated by the Orions and Rigellians. Many planets already practiced it, and those who had dropped it began to practice it again.” Zatanna walked back and forth on the platform. “Earth had established slavery as permanent after a great struggle on the North American continent. The Southern victory at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863 began to turn the tide, and the assassination of Northern President Abraham Lincoln a year later finished the deal.”

“How so, Madame?”

“Destiny studies have shown that each Universe has Keystones. After careful study, those Gifted like myself can see the markers: Gettysburg was the Key battle of the American Civil War. If the North had won, eventually their superior numbers and leadership under Ulysses S. Grant would have brought them victory, as we’ve seen in alternate timelines.

“Abraham Lincoln is a Keystone of epic proportions. While some difference-makers can be ordinary citizens, sometimes it really _is_ kings and presidents. Lincoln is instrumental in nearly every Universe he appears in. He is one of those beings who embodies ideals in a genuine way. He embodies Freedom, Union, and so much more. 

“In this Universe, for example, Captain America is purely symbolic, a comic book character who inspires. In other Universes, he’s real, but the embodiment of the American ideal.”

A voice called out from the audience, “As long as the stink of slavery continues in this Galaxy, there can be no Enlightenment.”

“That is why the coming changes are so heartening, and why it is time to consider a Green Lantern to help bring them about. The Mists of Destiny foretell a Revolution that will sweep the Galaxy.”

“What kind of Revolution?”

Zatanna’s hand swept out grandly. “Freedom’s Rainbow.”

A murmur of excitement went around the room.

“There are many rainbows, but only one Rainbow of Freedom. And the Rainbow is coming, gentlebeings.”

The rainbow mists on the screen grew brighter.

“Where is the launch point?” asked a sharp-eyed Guardian in the front row. He hunched his bony shoulders forward. 

“Earth.”

Interest was noticeably piqued. The Guardian said, “Earth is a place of savagery, is it not?”

“Quite so.” Zatanna crossed her arms. “A people still wild with savagery, they have sublimated it to visit upon their slaves. Some say that without slavery they would tear each other apart. Since slavery’s establishment worldwide, crime is down, there are no wars on the planet, and economic prosperity has flourished.”

The Guardian’s eyes glittered. “It sounds as if you approve.”

“Hardly, Sire Ollev. It is just a statement of facts.” She turned in a clockwise motion. “Guardians of Oa, slavery is not indigent to just this Galaxy. You have found it in every era, every Universe, every timeline, yet it does not always endure. This Galaxy’s time has come to welcome Rainbow’s Freedom.”

“How so?” asked a woman in the second row. Her white hair was meticulously coiffed, not a hair out of place.

Zatanna turned back to the screen, the mists parting to reveal the blue-and-white globe of Earth. Murmurs of appreciation for its beauty went around the room.

“The Revolution begins here. I have seen the possibilities. Great heroes will come from this civilization to lead the Revolution.”

“So slavery is doomed?”

“In the long run.”

“How long?”

“Within a generation.”

Murmurs of excitement flowed around, and Zatanna smiled.

The woman spoke again. “Where on Earth do these heroes come from?”

“That is the question right now. I have some possibles, but we still need to see how certain events unfold. Let us just say that while history is often made by common folk, sometimes a Prince will do.”

The screen coalesced into a symbol, cries of “The House Of El!” going up.

Zatanna nodded. “The survining Kryptonians are convinced Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara, will be their savior.”

Sire Ollev asked, “I thought he died on Krypton when it exploded.”

“He may have, but I believe that the tale of him being sent away in a rocket is true. Reading of some of the texts indicate he is somewhere in the Galaxy, hidden away safely for now.”

“Why doesn’t he show himself?” the woman asked.

Zatanna looked at Siress Ojen. “There are indications that Kal-El is extremely vulnerable right now. This could be a healing time for him, a sanctuary from his enemies. The Empire would like nothing better than to capture Kal-El and make a painful example of him.” 

“Painful?”

“For him.”

The word ‘Barbarian!” was heard but Zatanna ignored it. She said, “He may be Destined to be Earth's Greatest Hero. There are several sets of heroes projected, and a Trinity, perhaps three, one intersected by a mythological figure, another…World’s Finest? However, it is really too soon to tell.”

“But this Milky Way Galaxy is Destined to be worthy of coming into our Universe?” Ollev asked.

“Sire Ollev, this Galaxy could very well become the center of the Universe someday.”

Shock and exclamations of “Ridiculous!” “Nonsense!” and “Absurd!” rang out.

Opar raised a hand. “Guardians, we have seen the most shining heroes and civilizations rise from the dregs of muck and mire. Why not Galaxies?”

Ollev’s eyes narrowed. “Still, the savagery of these peoples…are not some of the races especially vicious?”

Opar nodded. “The Orions, Kadorans, Klingons, Romulans…still, the most vicious race are the Vulcans.”

Interest piqued in Ollev’s eyes. “How so?”

Opar looked completely calm as he said, “The Vulcans are ruled by their passions. They keep mainly to themselves but there are stories of their Warrior abilities in the Kadoran War of a century ago. They are involved in Empire politics but are fiercely private.”

Ojen remarked, “Ambassador Sarek’s son Spock is with Starfleet, is he not?”

“He is, but not with the approval of his father.”

“Some say that is because Vulcans cannot function in ‘polite society’.”

Opar nodded. “Ambassador Sarek is unique. He functions well, despite his race’s prodigious temper. Some say that his son functions due to his half-Human blood.”

“Half-Human!” Ollev frowned. “I had hear of the Ambassador’s strange…proclivities. I thought that Vulcans were strict against ‘mixing of the blood’.”

“They are. Sarek must have quite a strong will to go against his people’s code.”

“Especially T’Pau,” said Ojen.

“T’Pau is quite…formidable,” Opar agreed.

Zatanna’s expression indicated wry agreement.

“The Vulcans are savage, but the Empire counts them as their best Warriors.” Opar glided to the center of the platform. “Their mental powers are extremely sharp as well, the race on average highly intelligent. Telepathic powers are included. Such powers make them feared for more than their physical skills.”

“They are not very ethical in their use of those powers,” Ojen observed sourly.

“No,” Opar agreed. “The Vulcans prefer, however, to shield themselves from what they call ‘chaotic minds’. It is why they allow very few visitors to their planet or venture off it. It is rare indeed to get any information at all about what goes on there, but word has leaked out of an esoteric movement led by a man named Surak.” 

“What kind of movement?”

“Pure logic. A sublimation of all emotion in order for the race to survive. Their …murder rate…is quite high.”

“Barbarians,” Ojen snorted.

“Yes, but Surak’s Revolution concerns only the Vulcans,” Zatanna said. “Earth is the place whereby the Galactic Revolution will come.”

“Why Earth? What do Terrans have that distinguishes them so?”

“It is true that every planet has its own characteristics. The Vulcans are savage Warriors, the Orions are sadistic pirates and slavers, the Rigellians also slavers but also incredible wealth gatherers, and the Jovarans are known for great intellectuals and creative artists, such as writers and painters and sculptors.”

“And Terrans…?”

Zatanna looked thoughtful. “Earth people are all those things, including Bhadarians’ political brilliance, but even though they can be incredibly cruel as evidenced by some freemens’ treatment of slaves, there are three outstanding characteristics of Terrans: adaptability, as no matter where you go in the Galaxy, Humans seem to be there.

“Secondly, curiosity drives the species. They have an insatiable thirst for exploration and knowledge.”

“And the third thing?”

“Love.”

Surprised exclamations went around the amphitheater.

“Love?” Ojen asked.

“Yes. It is true that all races have the capacity to love, though admittedly some ignore it, but the people of Earth’s finest redeeming quality is their capacity to love.”

“A very nice little sentiment, Lady Zatanna, but not quantifiable.” Ollev’s expression was close to a smirk.

“Love is not easy to mathematically quantify, of course, Sire, but surely there are enough examples to continue the conversation.”

“If you say.”

A flash of irritation crossed Zatanna’s face but she restrained herself from a retort.

“If they are so loving a people, why do they practice slavery?” asked Ojen.

“They are far from a perfect race, but they hold that capacity to love in high regard. There are documented instances in which Masters and Mistresses even love their slaves.”

“How generous of them.”

“Within the culture, it is just as taboo for a Master to love his slave as it is for a Vulcan to take a mate outside the race, but there are instances of both.”

“So this loving capacity of Earth people will create a Revolution?”

“Essentially.” Zatanna frowned. “The Trinities I keep seeing…they indicate bonding by love as well as common purpose. I just cannot divine who they may be.”

“And yet you know that a great change is coming?”

Zatanna nodded. “Already three of Destiny’s events have been triggered.”

“What events?”

Zatanna sighed. “I have not been given details, only the sense that they have occurred. Three are Destined meetings, of people who will be important in the coming days. Kal-El may be mated with a Human, one of exceptional skills and talents. The Galaxy could not stand against them or the Trinities. There is extremely bright Light from certain heroes…a linchpin…we are still studying other Universes and do not have a good reliable list of events.” 

“A pity.”

“It is. We could be missing something important.”

Frustration seeped out of her voice, and Opar said, “Do not be distressed, Lady Zatanna. You are giving us much information already.” 

“What information?” Ollev scoffed. “There is nothing but vagaries.”

“Not so, Sire. Without Zatanna’s divination, we would be lost.”

Ollev looked unconvinced. “We need facts.”

“Divination does not deal in facts.”

“Truly said.”

“Future-telling is inexact but can give us clues.” Zatanna swept out her arm. “The Mists of Destiny are telling us that this Galaxy will convulse with change from within, and face possible enemies from without.”

The Guardians sat up straighter. “What enemies without?” Ollev snapped.

“The collective is still a possibility, but the Kadorans look like the best threat right now. They have never forgotten their defeat at the hands of the Empire a century ago.”

“War is always a bad situation,” said Ojen, shaking her head.

“War brings changes. Perhaps an interstellar war will speed up social change.”

“That is true, Lady Zatanna, but it also been my experiences that war also represses many social liberties.”

“True, m’lady. Only time will tell.” She frowned. “Also, there is a chance that Destiny may not be reached or altered. There is a Darkness that could swallow up the Light. A Great Trial is coming, possibly for Kal-El, wherever he is.” She sighed. “Even though steel is stronger forged through fire, there are instances when it can break.”

The amphitheater was quiet, then another voice spoke up. “You have done very good work, Lady Zatanna. This information is invaluable.”

Immediately everyone quieted. When Sire Opal spoke, the rest of the Guardians listened. He sat regally in his place six seats from Ollev. 

“Thank you.” The rainbow mists swirled. “This is the lull before the storm, ladies and gentlemen.

“May the stars themselves help us at what is to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End of the[Paradise Arc](http://archiveofourown.org/works/369533/chapters/601826)**
> 
> **Next: The Dark Knight Of The Soul Arc**


End file.
